For the first time in a while, Alex found himself at peace. His entire body felt warm. Warm and comfortable. There was no pain as far as he could feel, nor was there any feeling of fear or worry in his mind. If there was anything that could describe what Alex felt, it was content. He was...satisfied.

As he laid there on the ground, Alex’s thoughts wandered.

He remembered the day his father was officially named the Count of the Obsidian System and Supreme Commander of Battlefleet Obsidian. He remembered all the smiling faces of the visitors who traveled countless lightyears to congratulate his father in person. Envoys from Dukes. Counts and Countesses themselves traveled to Valorian and offered his father their friendship. Alex distinctly remembered being there. He was only 5 years old, but that didn't stop everyone from burying him under a sea of gifts and compliments. Even the Holy Emperor, the Great Phoenix himself, sent a royal messenger to System A21 to show his appreciation for Lord Wolf’s service.

He remembered the day when he first saw Amelia. Oh...his baby sister! How old was he back then? 5? 6? He didn't remember. All he knew was he grew so fond of the tiny baby, so much so that he couldn’t last an hour without running over to her room and observing her with curious eyes. His mother grew very annoyed by this...in a good way, of course.

In the households of many Imperial Nobles, siblings saw each other as competitors rather than family. When a Lord or Lady dies, their position is given to whoever they desired...or whoever wielded the most power and influence. Nothing was really certain, so all too many potential heirs preferred to avoid the competition altogether. Honest sibling relationships were rare in the Empire, as rare as Imperial Nobles who were kind.

He remembered the countless feasts, each hosted after another victory by the Obsidian Wolf. The fragile and kind old man that he was, Duke Wells himself hosted four parties personally. The celebration after the Zaki Incursion was especially grand. Countless Counts and Barons arrived at Wolf Den and listened to the stories from Gerard. Stories of how he put down the aliens that terrorized multiple worlds. Stories of how he, as always, achieved victory.

At that moment, everything was perfect. So perfect that Alex wanted to lay there forever. There was no pain here. No anger. Just peace.

And then, there were screams.

That was when everything came back to Alex.

The cold words from Countess Valentine echoed in his ears, followed by his sister’s tortured screaming and his mother’s helpless cries of anguish. He could hear himself roaring in fury, only to be held back from doing anything to help his family. Finally, he could hear the gunshots.

He couldn’t let go of everything. He couldn’t go down like this. No...he couldn’t let this be the end. No!

Alexander’s eyes snapped open. It didn't take him too long to realize the world was burning around him as if the Great Phoenix, as the legends foretold, had finally decided to show its true form and set the enemies of the Empire ablaze. Licks of red flame consumed entire sets of luxurious furniture. Dead bodies of Wolf Guards and servants that littered the ground were lit up, adding to the inferno that was devouring everything he once knew.

Alexander tried to move. He tried to stand up, and that was when he felt pain and exhaustion washing over him. The source? Two bullet wounds. One in his chest. Another in his belly.

The Countess was using the Arbiter Gauss Handgun when she executed the Wolfs. The model she carried, Arbiter-N, was a fan of all the Lords and Ladies. It was small and packed quite a punch, but its bullets pierced the targets. That was it. Compared to rifles armed with rounds designed to explode into a thousand pieces of shrapnel inside the entry wounds, this was nothing.

This was the only reason Alexander could still wake up now. Unfortunately for him, this fact merely delayed the inevitable. Two gauss rounds entered his body in one place and left another. Already, he could feel something wet under his body. Blood. He was going to bleed out soon...assuming the fire wouldn’t burn him alive first.

“Grrrrrr!” Alexander let out a pained scream that he was trying so hard to keep down. He really did. But no amount of gritting his teeth could stop that cry of agony. Nonetheless, the man continued. Slowly, he grabbed onto the armrest of a leather sofa and tried to stand back up.

Every move burned like inferno inside his body. Every twitch of his body sent his body shaking. Alexander could feel whatever little strength he had left in his body leaving him, but he pushed on. He couldn’t die here! Not when the people who betrayed his family were still alive and well! That thought was like a shot of adrenaline, helping Alexander gather whatever strength he had.

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Finally, the man was able to move again. Slowly, he stumbled his way to one of the nearby sofas, where he found his mother and sister, Jessie and Amelia Wolf, laying against the leather seats.

Both were dead. A bullet through the skull.

Amelia’s eyes were still open. The look of excruciation in her eyes made Alexander’s knees buckle and his fist clench in utter fury. She was just a child! She posed no threat at all to Valentine! Yet these thugs had no problem torturing her and executing her!

Tears in his eyes, Alexander used whatever strength he had left to stumble his way to the table, where his father, Lord Gerard Wolf, laid dead against his chair.

He was a caring father. A brilliant military leader. He was one of the few Imperial Nobles who actually cared about his people. The name of the Obsidian Wolf could draw cries of fear and admiration across the Empire. Yet, the legend was executed in his own home.

Like a dog.

Alexander took a few more steps before finally collapsing on the ground once again. A thousand different thoughts coursed through his brain all at once. Countess Valentine had to pay! She had to! He swore that one day he would watch as the vile woman was burned at the stake for her treacheries! And Duke Wells! That monster...one day, he would take Battlefleet Obsidian to his doorstep, and he would burn down those traitors and everyone in his way! He would answer blood with blood!

But as seconds became minutes, and Alexander was still laying there in a puddle of his own blood, that possibility became less and less likely. The fire was spreading, and the smoke alone was enough to make Alexander cough and choke. Of course, even without the fire, Alexander was already at the end of the line.

His brain told his body to move, but his body simply couldn’t obey that command. It was physically impossible. The young man had already exhausted all the strength he had. Still, that didn't stop Alexander from trying. Clenching his teeth against each other, Alexander started crawling. His nails dug into the floor and pulled his heavy body forward, dragging a bloody trail behind him. Soon, even that became impossible, and Alexander laid there in the burning room, unable to do anything else.

His eyelids became heavier and heavier as the smoke in the room became thicker and thicker. Everything suggested to Alexander that he only had one course of action left. Give up. Admit defeat. Close your eyes and let your exhaustion take you. It was over. The Countess and the Duke would meet their end sooner or later, just not by you.

Every cell in his body wanted him to find a way and warn Battlefleet Obsidian of this treachery. To instruct the blade of the Wolf to carry out vengeance against the murderers of its Lord. But he couldn’t. In fact, he could barely lift a finger.

So Alexander did the last thing he could. He started praying.

In the Phoenix Empire, the common populace was taught that the Holy Emperor Fenix V was the reincarnation of his ancestors, Fenix the Great, who first created the Phoenix Empire. They were taught that the Holy Emperor was immortal. He was the Great Phoenix. He was the beginning and the end. He was omnipotent and omniscient, capable of protecting his loyal people and executing his enemies.

Of course, many Imperial citizens knew that was just propaganda, and almost every Imperial Noble knew it. Despite growing up as one of the commoners, Gerard was very aware that the Holy Emperor was not, in fact, holy. He still served the Holy Emperor, but only because he swore the man his allegiance.

Nonetheless, Alexander prayed to the Holy Emperor. He pleaded and begged, doing anything and everything that might make the supposed celestial notice his prayers. He offered him anything and everything he had for a chance of vengeance.

There was no answer. No celestial descended from the heavens and healed his dying body. No emperor appeared out of nowhere and blessed him with the power to extract his pound of flesh. All he got was the approaching flames...and the knowledge of his impending doom.

A drop of fire landed on his leg. It quickly licked through his clothes and burned away at his skin. Alexander screamed and kicked in pain, but it was useless. The flame didn't disappear. Instead, it slowly burned its way up his body, aided by the clothing he wore and his own flesh.

As his body burned and his skin melted and his voice screamed in agony, Alexander still refused to give up. This wasn’t the end! This couldn’t be! Once again, he started praying. This time, he was praying to anyone and everyone that would listen. He prayed to the Angels and Demons from the old myths. He prayed to the alien gods of xenomorph races long purged by humanity. He offered up his body and soul alike to any entity that could help him seek brutal retaliation against those who took everything from him.

This time, his prayers were answered.

Reality twisted before his eyes. A figure appeared in the empty space in front of Alexander Wolf. Flames and smoke moved to the side as if they were actively avoiding the figure. Even the pain on his body felt like they were dulled.

The figure slowly knelt down in front of the half-burnt Alexander. She watched as he burned for a few more seconds before waving her hand. The next thing Alexander knew, the fire on his body was completely extinguished by an invisible force. Of course, he was still extremely burned, and the four bullet holes in his body didn't disappear either.

However, as the smoke cleared, Alexander was able to get a better look at the figure that stopped him from completely being barbequed. It was a woman with straight black hair and wearing a black leather jacket. Her eyes were red, and the satisfied smile on her face made her stick out in the flaming slaughterhouse that was the dining hall.

“You seem to be in quite a predicament here, my friend.” The young woman said, examining Alexander’s brutal injuries with a sick grin of satisfaction. “So...let me introduce myself first. My name is Katie Lockwood, and I am a God of Agony. I’m going to assume you were the one praying to me?”

On the ground, Alexander paused for a few seconds before letting out a smile.