The outpost was a sprawl of industrial platforms, towering storage crates, and rusted docking bays covered in ice. The freezing winds howled through the metal corridors, the neon glow of merchant signs barely cutting through the perpetual twilight of the gas giant’s upper atmosphere.

Rust moved like a shadow. His Martian desert suit had been swapped for a reinforced void-cloak, shielding him from both the cold and the prying eyes of security drones. He had studied the outpost’s layout from stolen data—Kohr’s compound sat atop a repurposed refinery, walled off from the rest of the station by automated turrets and armed patrols.

Rust perched atop a loading crane, watching as a group of armored mercenaries escorted a hover-truck into the compound. He counted six guards, all well-equipped, but predictable in their movements. Two remained near the entrance, three followed the truck, and one took position on an overwatch balcony.

A plan formed.

Rust gripped the cold metal rail and leapt. The wind rushed past him as he landed silently atop the moving truck. He crouched low, his nanoblood suppressing the shock of impact. The guards continued their patrol, unaware.

As the truck passed through the compound gate, Rust slipped off the side, rolling into the shadows. He flattened against a stack of crates as the vehicle continued toward the main warehouse. His eyes scanned the perimeter—security cameras, motion sensors, sentry drones. Standard for a high-profile target.

Rust exhaled slowly. Stealth first. Then, slaughter.

Rust moved between blind spots, disabling security nodes with quick, precise swipes of his energy blade. He climbed an exterior vent shaft, slipping through the grated opening and emerging into a dimly lit corridor. The scent of coolant and burning fuel filled the air.

He was close.

Kohr’s personal quarters were on the top floor, just past a lounge where his guards relaxed between shifts. As Rust neared, he heard laughter—mercenaries playing cards, drinks clinking, weapons laid casually on the table.

He waited, calculating. Four men. One doorway.

Then, he moved.

The first guard barely had time to register the blur before Rust’s blade pierced his throat. A swift, brutal twist sent his lifeless body slumping onto the table, knocking over drinks. The others scrambled, reaching for their weapons—

Rust was faster.

A plasma knife buried itself in the second man’s chest. The third got off a shot, the bolt grazing Rust’s shoulder, but it didn’t slow him. He closed the distance in a blink, gripping the man’s arm and snapping it at the elbow before driving his knee into his skull.

The fourth guard bolted for the alarm panel. Rust hurled a shock grenade. The pulse sent him crashing into the wall, unconscious.

Silence.

Rust retrieved his blade, flicking off the blood. Then, he pushed forward.

Kohr’s door was locked with a retinal scanner. Rust dragged one of the corpses over, lifting his head just enough for the scanner to register. The door hissed open.

Inside, the merchant lord was already scrambling for his comms.

“Wait—WAIT!” Kohr stammered, his beady eyes wide as he fumbled for a weapon. “I can pay—whatever they’re giving you, I’ll double it!”

Rust stepped forward, leveling his energy rifle at Kohr’s chest. “Not interested.”

Kohr’s lip quivered. “Do you even know what you’re doing? Who I work for?”

Rust smirked. “That’s why you have to die.”

Before the merchant could beg, Rust pulled the trigger. The bolt burned a hole clean through his chest. Kohr collapsed, choking on his last breath.

The job was done.

But something felt… incomplete. Rust stared at the corpse, the fading heat of the kill leaving a hollow space in his chest. Was it too easy?

He shook off the thought.

Alarms blared outside. The compound was alerted.

Rust tapped his earpiece. “It’s done.”

Vext’s voice crackled through the line. “Good. Now leave before you overstay your welcome.”

Rust turned, stepping over the still-warm body. The blood pooled at his feet, a perfect reflection of the man he was becoming.

Not just a weapon.

Something more.

Something worse.

Rust grinned. Time to disappear.

Rust moved quickly, retracing his path through the dim corridors. The alarms blared louder now, echoing through the fortress like a warning drumbeat. He had planned to slip away undetected, but one mistake—a single misstep—had sent the whole outpost into high alert.

As he neared the stairwell, he saw a squad of armored guards rushing in from below, their rifles sweeping the halls. Rust ducked into the shadows, pressing against the cold metal wall. He could still slip through if he timed it right—

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Then his boot clipped a loose casing on the ground. The faint clink was all it took.

“There! Contact!” one of the soldiers shouted, his rifle snapping up.

Rust cursed. He dropped low as the first shot whizzed past, slamming into the metal wall behind him. He was done with stealth now.

He moved.

In a blur, he surged forward, closing the distance before the guard could fully react. His energy blade cut through armor and bone, severing the man’s weapon arm at the shoulder. A scream choked in the soldier’s throat as Rust kicked him back into the others.

The squad opened fire. Rust twisted, nanoblood-enhanced reflexes guiding his movements. Plasma bolts grazed past, one scorching his side, but he ignored the pain. He lunged, driving his blade through a soldier’s chest, then tore it free in a crimson arc.

The last two guards backed away, fumbling for cover. Too slow. Rust hurled his blade, embedding it in one man’s skull, then grabbed the other by the throat, slamming him into the wall so hard his spine cracked. The man gasped once, then went limp.

More boots pounded down the hall. Reinforcements.

Rust ripped his blade free and sprinted for the nearest control terminal. His fingers flew over the interface, hacking into the fortress’s lockdown protocols. If he could override security, he could shut off power to the lower levels and force an escape route.

The screen flickered—access denied. A counter-hack was already in progress.

“Tch.” Rust didn’t have time for this.

The reinforcements arrived—a full squad this time, armored head to toe. They moved with precision, flanking him from both sides. These weren’t just hired mercenaries. They were professionals.

Rust grinned.

Good.

The first explosion came from his grenade, sending two men sprawling. Before the others could react, Rust was among them, energy blade flashing. He danced between them, a whirlwind of death, cutting through visors, slicing through armor gaps, twisting bodies into lifeless husks.

One guard managed to get behind him, knife raised. Rust caught his wrist mid-swing and twisted it so violently the bone snapped. The man screamed, but Rust silenced him with a knee to the throat.

The corridor was a bloodbath now. Smoke and sparks filled the air, bodies slumped against the walls, their armor still steaming from energy burns. Rust’s own wounds dripped red, but he barely noticed.

He tapped his earpiece again. “Vext, the quiet exit isn’t happening.”

Vext chuckled. “I can see that. You’ve made quite the mess.”

Rust rolled his shoulder, ignoring the pain. “How much time do I have?”

“Less than five minutes before reinforcements from the outer perimeter arrive. Get to the docking bay. I’ve left you a little surprise.”

Rust exhaled, steadying himself.

Five minutes.

More than enough time to kill anyone left in his way.

He stepped over the bodies, heading toward the hangar. The fortress was on full lockdown, but that didn’t matter anymore. If stealth wouldn’t get him out—

Violence would.

Rust moved with lethal efficiency, sprinting through the bloodstained corridors as the fortress descended into chaos. The air reeked of scorched metal and ozone, alarms blaring in a frenzied chorus. Every corner he turned led to more opposition—guards scrambling into defensive positions, rifles raised.

They fired. Rust dodged, nanoblood-fueled instincts turning his body into a blur. Plasma bolts slammed into the walls, scorching black craters into the steel. He rolled forward, closing the distance in an instant. His blade lashed out, severing limbs, cutting deep into armor. A soldier screamed as Rust’s blade sliced through his midsection, his body collapsing in two broken halves.

The remaining guards hesitated. Rust saw the fear in their eyes.

He used it.

With a sudden burst of speed, he leaped onto the nearest one, slamming his knee into the man’s chest hard enough to crack ribs. He wrenched the guard’s own rifle free and turned it on the others, unloading a burst of plasma fire. Their armor barely held. The impact sent them staggering—just long enough for Rust to close the distance.

A slash to the throat. A blade through the heart. A crushed skull against the wall.

The hangar was just ahead now, the massive blast doors partially sealed due to the lockdown. Rust bolted forward, weaving past stray gunfire. He had no time to hack the controls. Instead, he reached down, gripping the corpse of a fallen soldier, and hurled it at the door’s control panel. Sparks erupted as the access panel shorted out. The doors groaned, then slid open just enough for him to slip through.

Inside the hangar, a massive loading bay stretched out before him—crates of supplies, grounded transports, and a handful of panicked personnel scrambling for cover. But Rust’s eyes locked onto something else entirely.

A ship.

Sleek, black, and predatory, its angular frame gleamed under the hangar’s emergency lights. Twin thrusters hummed with energy, prepped for takeoff. This was Vext’s “surprise.” A personal starfighter, custom-built for high-speed evasion and armed to the teeth. The cockpit hatch was already open, awaiting its pilot.

Rust grinned.

Then the heavy doors behind him slammed shut.

He spun—more guards. No, not just guards. These were enforcers, elite security forces clad in reinforced armor, carrying heavy plasma repeaters. Their leader, a towering figure with a cybernetic arm, stepped forward. His helmet’s visor glowed red.

“Stand down,” the enforcer ordered, voice like grinding metal. “You’re not leaving.”

Rust cracked his neck. “You should’ve brought more men.”

The enforcer raised a hand. “Fire.”

A storm of plasma bolts erupted toward Rust. He twisted, flipping over a crate as the ground behind him was torn apart. He grabbed a discarded rifle mid-dash, rolling into cover. Without hesitation, he popped up, firing a burst that took down two soldiers before they could react.

But the enforcer was already on him.

The hulking man lunged, slamming a metal fist toward Rust’s skull. Rust barely ducked in time—the impact shattered the crate behind him. He countered with a swift upward slash, but the enforcer blocked it with his cybernetic limb, sparks flying.

Faster than expected. Stronger too.

Rust smirked. Finally, a real fight.

The enforcer threw another punch. Rust sidestepped, twisting his blade low and slicing through the man’s knee joint. The enforcer staggered, but before he could recover, Rust drove his palm into his chest, nanoblood-enhanced strength launching him backward.

The enforcer slammed into the hangar floor, but he wasn’t done. With a snarl, he raised his weapon—too slow. Rust was already there, his blade plunging straight through the enforcer’s visor.

The red glow flickered out.

Rust yanked his blade free, turning to the remaining guards. They hesitated. Then, in a rush of self-preservation, they fled.

Rust sheathed his blade and sprinted for the ship. He vaulted into the cockpit, fingers flying over the controls. The engines roared to life, the hangar’s lockdown alarms going wild. Automated turrets descended from the ceiling, tracking him.

“Not today.”

Rust punched the throttle.

The ship surged forward, its engines blasting a searing trail behind it. The turrets opened fire, but Rust rolled the craft mid-air, weaving between the streams of plasma. The hangar doors loomed ahead—still closed.

Rust didn’t slow down.

At the last second, he flipped a switch. The ship’s forward cannons lit up, sending a concentrated burst of energy straight into the blast doors. Metal groaned. Explosions rippled through the structure.

Then the doors shattered.

Rust’s ship shot through the fire and debris, escaping into the void of space.

He exhaled, settling into the pilot’s seat as Outpost Nine shrank behind him. His wounds ached. Blood dripped from his side. But it didn’t matter. He was free.

A voice crackled through his comms.

“Enjoying my gift?”

Rust smirked. “You could’ve mentioned the welcoming committee.”

Vext chuckled. “Consider it a lesson. Escape is never easy.”

Rust leaned back, watching the stars streak past as he set his course toward Vext’s location.

“Then I guess I passed.”

The stars blurred past as Rust guided his new starfighter through the void. His wounds burned, his body aching from the mission’s toll, but none of it dulled the satisfaction thrumming through him. He had done it. He had killed Darius Kohr, survived Outpost Nine’s security, and in a ship gifted by his patron to return home. Now, he was heading straight to Vext.

The space station loomed ahead—an ominous construct of dark metal and jagged spires, hanging over the gas giant’s turbulent storms. As Rust approached, the automated defenses scanned his ship, then the docking bay doors rumbled open, welcoming him inside.

As soon as the landing struts hit the deck, the cockpit hissed open. Rust pulled himself up, his muscles tight with exhaustion, and leaped down just as Lord Vext strolled into the bay.

Vext looked... pleased. His dark robes swept across the metal floor as he approached, his piercing eyes scanning Rust from head to toe. He smirked at the blood trailing down Rust’s side.

“You’re still standing,” Vext said, voice thick with amusement. “Good. You passed.”

Rust exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders. “Never doubted it.”

Vext chuckled, stepping closer. “You proved resourceful. Efficient. And most importantly, ruthless.” His gaze lingered on Rust’s wounds. “But you lack endurance. You bled too much.”

Rust scoffed. “Not my fault they actually put up a fight.”

Vext’s smirk widened. “True. But if you intend to lead, you must fight harder. Smarter.” He turned, gesturing for Rust to follow. “Come. I have a task for you.”

Rust fell into step beside him, ignoring the burning in his limbs. They moved through the station’s corridors, past heavily armed soldiers standing at attention, past war rooms filled with strategic holomaps. This wasn’t just a hideout—it was a fortress, a staging ground for Vext’s war.

Finally, they reached a command chamber where a massive display projected a map of the solar system. Vext pointed to a highlighted region near Neptune.

“One of the lesser Barons, Lord Halric, has been growing bold. He’s begun gathering forces, hoping to curry favor with the other nobles.” Vext turned to Rust. “I want that ambition crushed.”

Rust studied the map, already thinking. “You want him dead?”

“I want his forces scattered. His people broken. Leave him alive if you wish, but his power must be torn from him.” Vext’s grin was razor-sharp. “And I’m giving you the means to do it.”

With a flick of his wrist, he brought up another projection—a contingent of elite soldiers. Their armor was dark, their weapons lethal, their eyes cold with discipline.

Rust raised a brow. “Your best?”

“My most capable,” Vext corrected. “But they lack what you have. Instinct. A hunger for battle. Take them. Make them yours.”

Rust grinned, already relishing the thought. “Fine.” He turned to the holographic map, setting his sights on Lord Halric’s domain.

This would be his first real command.

And he had no intention of waging a nobleman’s war.