The moon Triton was a frozen rock, its surface battered by relentless winds. Halric’s stronghold—an old fortress repurposed as a command center—was dug deep into the icy cliffs.

Rust stood at the front of his gathered soldiers, the elites Vext had assigned to him. They were disciplined, methodical, trained to execute orders with precision.

That wouldn’t do.

Rust stepped forward, letting his gaze sweep over them. “You’re good soldiers,” he said. “Trained to fight by the rules. To execute clean, efficient kills.” He bared his teeth. “That ends today.”

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The soldiers exchanged glances, uncertain. Rust continued.

“When we go in there, we don’t fight like them. We don’t show restraint. We don’t fight for honor. We fight like I do.” His voice dropped, dark and sharp. “With no mercy.”

He let the words sink in, then turned to the fortress in the distance.

“Now let’s burn them down.”

The attack began in a flash of fire and violence.

Rust led the charge, cutting through Halric’s guards like they were nothing. Plasma bolts scorched the air, but he weaved through them, his nanoblood-enhanced speed making him a blur. He wanted his soldiers to see—to learn.

One by one, they started following his lead. Their discipline melted away, replaced by raw, unrelenting aggression. They stopped fighting like soldiers and started fighting like monsters.

Just as he wanted.

The fortress burned. Lord Halric’s forces scattered, fleeing into the storm, only to be hunted down like prey.

Rust stood amidst the carnage, watching his soldiers revel in their newfound brutality.

This was only the beginning.