In House Venus, opulence was the air they breathed. It flaunted its wealth and might through every intricate detail of its manor. Exterior walls, hewn from the very stones of Old Greece, stretched endlessly, adorned with statues that seemed to whisper tales of ancient grandeur.

Two elongated mirrored platforms flanked the estate, revealing roads leading in and out of the academy, circled by a grand parking area. To an outsider, it was a peculiarly ostentatious abode.

From the marble balcony atop the grand estate, a solitary figure stood, presiding over the scene. The upper chamber, a vast expanse of limestone craftsmanship, boasted a richness unmatched. The bed, swathed in luxurious crimson linens, mirrored the room's opulence.

The lone figure, Jace, possessed a cascade of shaggy hair brushing his neck, his porcelain skin basking in the sun's fading embrace. With indigo eyes tracing the distant waves, he smirked, tightening his robe as he lounged in the glow.

Below, his peers, House Venus graduates, reveled. Amidst the descending sun, laughter echoed, accompanied by the mirth of girls drunkenly immersed in the fountain’s purple hues.

As Jace soaked in the view, a soft click interrupted his reverie. “Just woke up?” The voice prodded, and Jace, pantless, turned to face his sister, Hannah.

“Hey, sis,” he greeted with a grin, brushing off her arrival. “Gorgeous day, isn’t it?”

“Hilarious,” she retorted, arms wrapping around herself. “Would’ve been nicer if you actually came out to enjoy it.”

Jace, unfazed, roamed the room while Hannah’s eyes swept the chaos: scattered clothes, kitchen clutter, and—

Her gaze landed on Jace’s bed, an enigmatic woman lying there, her porcelain complexion and dark hair striking against the sheets. “Who's she?” Hannah inquired.

“My friend,” Jace casually answered, raiding the fridge for sustenance.

“A friend?” Hannah echoed, a trace of mockery lacing her voice.

“Can't a guy have friends who aren't his little sister?” Jace shot back.

In a swift movement, Hannah stepped forward, gripping Jace's chin with a fierce determination that froze him in place.

Hannah unleashed a storm. Her rage crackled in her eyes, blazing with the intensity of a tempest. “Don’t dare act coy with me,” she seethed, her eyes wide, almost bulging. “The entire House is buzzing about our name, and here you are, sloshed and gallivanting with whores.”

Jace met her gaze for a fleeting moment before averting his eyes, his jaw tensing. “Hannah, for—” His words were cut off by her ferocious grip.

“Don’t Hannah me,” she snapped back. “You’re up here fooling around, and for what? We have the party in a few hours.”

“Well, sis,” Jace replied with an irreverent smile, “I was merely sampling the local delights.”

“Gross, Jace,” she retorted, her features wrinkling in disgust. “This party has to be flawless.”

“It will be,” Jace assured, moving closer to her. His hands found her shoulders, grazing her skin beneath the v-neck, and he studied her—realizing how much she’d grown. It pleased him.

Jace’s fingers trailed from her shoulder to lift her chin, meeting her gaze. A faint crimson bloomed on her cheeks as she looked at him. “Nothing’s going to go awry tonight,” he promised. “For days we’ve prepped, and now everyone will see our greatness. A party’s spark to ignite the semester.”

Hannah’s hand hovered near her cheek, contemplating that perhaps her sibling had invested more thought than she’d assumed. Jace smirked and playfully flicked her forehead.

“Ouch!” she exclaimed in pain.

Chuckling, Jace sauntered back to the kitchen. “What’s your breakfast wish?”

“Breakfast?” Hannah echoed. “For heaven's sake, Jace, it’s practically afternoon.”

Jace rolled his eyes. “The team took me out drinking after practice.”

“Sounds like you skipped your classes,” Hannah scolded.

Rummaging his stocked fridge, Jace pulled out a loaf of bread, ham wrapped in parchment, holey cheese, chopped tomatoes, salt, pepper, vinegar, and, of course, a beer. Assembling his sandwich, he cracked open a beer, offering one to his sister, who accepted with a sour expression.

She shot him a glance, and Jace felt the tide turn. “What’s this?” he paused, butter knife in hand, bewildered by her sudden change.

The air in the room hung heavy with familial tension, like a charged thunderstorm threatening to unleash its tempest. Hannah sighed, her lips pressed to the rim of the beer bottle. "Jace, you're so absorbed in your antics, you fail to see what's unfolding within our own walls."

Jace groaned, recoiling. "Christ, Hannah," he protested, "I've just assumed the role a few days ago. Is it such a crime to take a moment to relish the position?"

"Don't play the fool, Jace," she shot back, her tone sharp. "There are sharks circling. Once they sense the vulnerability of our house, they'll sink their teeth in and devour us."

Hannah delivered those words with a fierce proximity, but Jace, ever the nonchalant provocateur, merely rolled his eyes and flashed his trademark smirk. "You worry too much, sis," he quipped, running his fingers through her hair.

She swatted his hand away. "I'm serious, Jace," she insisted, an unexpected edge in her voice. "Whispers are spreading about you. They say the way the president lost his position was unjust."

Pausing, she hid her eyes behind her hand, but her voice soldiered on. "Father was right. We shouldn't have ousted him like that."

Jace shook his head. "What are you talking about?" he asked. "The president—don't make me laugh. Yes, he was a competent leader, which is why he's reluctantly my right-hand now. People need a reality check. Would you rather have some frontier fool or the rightful heir to the planet lead you?"

Hannah stared at him, shaking her head. "Your pride will be your undoing," she warned with a wry chuckle. "I'm not disputing your rightful place, but there's a time and a method to eliminate your enemies."

Chuckling, Jace retorted, "So, you agree." He took a step towards her, closing the gap to a mere inch. The indigo shade of her eyes was laid bare before him, and he smiled. "You think Maxtn and his faction are our enemies?"

Hannah hesitated. "They are our enemies, but we need to be strategic in dealing with them."

"Ah, poison, then," Jace quipped, his amusement echoing through the room. Hannah joined in, revealing a twisted truth in their jest.

"No, maybe," Hannah teased, drawing a laugh from her older brother.

"That's the smirk," Jace observed, separating from her after tousling her hair. He returned to the sandwich, assembling the condiments.

Hannah, now in an observer's role, appeared more subdued, smaller. Jace studied her; since childhood, she'd always regarded him as the authoritative figure. However, in moments like this, she assumed the parental mantle between them.

"Are you genuinely not concerned?" she asked, her tone shedding the earlier anger and disapproval.

In the quiet confines of the room, Jace replied, “Of course, I'm worried. But I won't spend my days trembling in fear of my throne. We are the heirs of Venus, Hannah. There's power in our blood.”

She exhaled. “And Maxtn?”

Jace rolled his eyes. “Maxtn—father and you both took issue with my ousting him from the presidency and appointing him as my advisor.”

“But he had only a few years left in his term, and the expectation was for you to study under him,” she reasoned.

Annoyance etched his features. “You think I should learn from a backwoods leader how to run this house when I'm destined to rule over him, his world, and our planet?”

“You know what I mean,” Hannah persisted. “Maxtn was revered back home, and there's talk among the high ranks surrounding father that they aren’t pleased about this.”

“They should observe,” Jace declared, twirling the knife at his wrist. “They should all watch, for now, it's the reign of Jace the II of Venus. I've been in the WarCasket since I was nine, trained by some of the finest minds in this system. Don't you think I have what it takes?”

“Christ, Jace,” Hannah sighed. “I support you, but others doubt you. On your first day, you demanded the president resign.”

“I didn’t ‘demand,’” he argued.

“It’s a demand if the president's son requests it,” she countered.

“I told Maxtn his contributions would be remembered and repaid in full. He's a full citizen and will have a place by father's side once he graduates.”

Hannah remained unimpressed. As Jace stepped closer, she didn’t recoil this time. His hands rested gently on her arms, just above her elbows.

“What's troubling you?” he inquired.

She hesitated. “I...we're finally at the academy, and our lives are beginning. I don’t want anything bad to happen to us, to you.”

“You worry too much, Sis,” he reassured, drawing her close. His words whispered near her ear.

“Don't fret, sis,” he murmured. “Trust in me. The Martians are history, the Emperor is favoring House Venus, and now, we'll rise even stronger.”

“Really?” she queried, hope and pride reflected in her gaze.

"Yeah," he replied, gazing into her indigo eyes, a mirrored universe reflecting back at him as he smiled. "I will be the one to lead our house into greater advancements and a brighter future. Hannah, I will bring the house of The Purple Snake into its true glory."

Hours slipped away from that moment, and now the skies bore the cloak of darkness. The stars outside winked, and speculation stirred—did life thrive on these distant celestial bodies, colonized by humankind, or remnants of an ancient civilization?

Groups of young adults, ranging from eighteen to twenty-four, ambled through the forest encircling the academy. Most adorned the uniforms of their houses, but fewer donned the gray of houselessness. Drunk or high, they weaved through the woods, their laughter and string of curses forming the melody of the night. Some seemed intent on draining the moon for their own fix. Divergent destinies guided them on their unique paths, yet the shared objective at the night's end remained the same.

The Sons of Mars trod the forest grounds, bumping into other groups, exchanging greetings, and forging ahead into the darkness, flashlights warding off the shadows. The woods stirred with the vibrant pulse of the academy's student body. The distant hollers of peers, the crackle of brush under critters' feet, all underscored the liveliness of the night.

The Sons of Mars roared their own cheers, a concoction of excitement and inebriation as they anticipated the night ahead.

Uniform-clad, Ed sported an additional coat covering the paint along his right sleeve and shoulder, a gray zip-up sweater protecting him from the summer chill. Axel joined them, his deep purple cloak matching his eyes. Another companion, Vinnie, completed their trio as they ventured toward the party.

A puff of smoke escaped Edward’s nose, the cigarette held with no hands as they navigated the path. “This is going to be great,” Vinnie exclaimed, his gaze rosy, a wide smirk illuminating his features. “This is going to be amazing,” he affirmed.

Vinnie took a swig from his water bottle—outwardly a standard sports bottle, unknown to the observer, it now held Mercurian Ale.

"Amazing," Axel rolled his eyes. "More like a bore."

Vinnie chuckled. "Pretty boy doesn't like simple parties," he responded with a daring smirk. "What, you're too good for a party like this?"

Axel surprisingly nodded. "Yes, I am too good for a party, or rather, a measly get-together. I'd find more enjoyment and productivity polishing my sword skills or running a combat sim in my WarCasket."

The banter seeped venom as Vinnie prodded, “Yeah, I bet. You'd love polishing off your sword. You hardly do anything back at the manor, leaving the chores to the common lot. If you’d stop playing with your sword, maybe you’d get more done.”

Axel's countenance darkened, catching the veiled insult. "Polishing my sword, you dare..." His voice dripped malice, fists clenching. Vinnie's laughter filled the air, and Axel, imagining a swift, clean cut, felt his expression wane as Ed joined the mirth.

“Are you just going to let this slide?” Axel’s tone swung between questioning and self-pity, wrapping his arms around himself as if shielding from the jibes.

They continued walking, the conversation rolling on. “He's not entirely wrong,” Ed interjected.

“Entirely?” Vinnie echoed.

“You don’t do anything, Axel,” Ed stated flatly. “I told everyone they needed to contribute. The semester hasn't begun, so the academy's guild isn’t fully operational yet. Tyson landed a job delivering pizzas, Vinnie’s tutoring upper-class kids in chess, and you're the only one not doing anything…”

An audible groan escaped Axel. “So what?” He retorted. “I come from Martian royalty, and—”

“No one cares about your ancestry or your daddy's titles,” Vinnie interrupted, his annoyance palpable. He gestured around them. “None of that matters anymore. All those privileges vanished when Mars got flung across the cosmos.”

“So what?” Axel jabbed a thumb toward himself. “People like me are here to boss around people like you.”

“That's quite the mindset,” Vinnie retorted. “Keep that thought alive when reality hits. It's just a way of saying you're useless.”

Axel turned, but Ed quickly stepped between them. “We're going to keep moving,” he declared, both boys fixing their stares on him.

Axel grumbled, reluctantly relenting. “Fine,” he spat, and they resumed their walk.

“What's the point of us being out here?” Axel grumbled.

Ed sighed. “We’ve discussed this. We need to socialize, show our house's true colors, make alliances, fix the damage the emperor did to our reputation, remind people of our House, our planet.”

“Sure, Ed,” Axel scoffed.

“Yeah, Ed, that’s going to be a real walk in the park,” Vinnie quipped, his smirk tight-knit.

Vinnie pressed on, his words cutting through the wild night. “You think they don’t know, that they've forgotten all the good our grandfathers did. No, they remember and resent. The hatred's deep, always was, but now, it's just easier for them to show it.”

A hushed silence enveloped them, interrupted only by the symphony of the forest: creaking branches, distant animal calls, and solitary streams now swelling with rain. The storm was upon them, a tempest that sliced through the air, chilling them to the bone.

Ed's gaze met Vinnie's, searching for the truth. What did Vinnie truly think of Mars's fall? Was he like Axel, wrapped in his lineage, or had he clawed his way through the ruins? There was a distinction, Ed realized, recalling Henryk's words and his conversation with Jose.

"Our emperor's got his plan, and if he says traitors are traitors, I'm here to heed and serve the royal line," Henryk's words echoed, and Ed recoiled at the notion. Axel, here only due to the spikes along his back, and even then, Axel...

Ed scrutinized Axel, noting the well-groomed appearance—clean nails, silvery-white hair, and indigo-purple eyes. Yet, Axel's pristine exterior only accentuated the tarnish of betrayal that marred his uniform.

Ed narrowed his eyes, contemplating if they truly needed him. A traitor to the Martian line and the true Empress, Axel's loyalty was uncertain. In the face of adversity, would he stand firm or crumble? Could anyone be trusted, or was their brotherhood doomed, the last remnants of a dying race?

His gaze shifted to Vinnie, a potential knight of old, his most trusted. But they were different now. Ed took a deep drag, considering the danger, the loopholes in the academy's rules, and the need for caution.

The argument between Vinnie and Axel drew Ed from his musings. As Axel vented, Ed felt a surge of frustration. The laughter, the insults—they all stood in silence as their brother was ostracized. Now, they expected an easy entry into their house, claiming privilege due to their Core World births.

"I’ve had enough of this!" Axel's yell cut through the storm, snapping Ed back to the present.

In the secluded realm of their argument, the verbal brawl between Axel and Vinnie escalated into a physical clash. Vinnie's taunting and Axel's fury culminated into a maelstrom of fists and curses.

"Enough!" Axel's cry pierced the air, igniting a brawl Ed struggled to contain. He lunged toward them, arms outstretched, attempting to grasp at flailing limbs, but his efforts were futile. He heard the venomous insults spat between the boys, felt the sting of dirt in his eyes as their struggle raged on.

Vinnie, blood trickling from his lips, flung dirt into Axel's face, a gesture of grim defiance. Axel retaliated, kicking away from Vinnie. Ed, exhausted and resigned, moved to a nearby fallen tree, observing the tumult while puffing on his cigarette.

As the brawl persisted, Axel's boot landed a decisive blow to Vinnie's stomach, temporarily halting the skirmish. "Had enough?" Ed interjected, a trace of unintended venom lacing his words. He chided himself internally; he had to tread carefully.

Gazing at the battered pair, once envisioned as the next generation of noble knights, now reduced to boys in a sordid scuffle, Ed exhaled a plume of smoke. Vinnie and Axel, disheveled and gasping for breath, attempted to regain their bearings.

"What the hell's wrong with you?" Vinnie spat, clutching his stomach. His cough was audible, his demeanor laced with disdain.

Axel retorted, "What's wrong? You're the mindless one here!"

"Mindless?" Vinnie scoffed, listing his accolades in retort. "I've been through high school medical training, scholarships across the solar system. Who's the simpleton now?"

Vinnie's laughter echoed, his finger pointed mockingly at Axel. "The shameful knight!" he jeered. Axel, perplexed, glanced at his attire, the regal fabric that draped him. His eyes locked with Vinnie's, searching for the source of the mockery.

"Dressed like an emperor's concubine," Vinnie continued, chuckling at his own jest, while even Ed couldn't help but watch the exchange. "Maybe if you weren't so feeble… maybe, just maybe, he'd take a liking to you."

In the midst of the chaos, Axel’s sudden strike took Vinnie by surprise, spewing bile and shock across the tense scene.

“Holy crap!” Axel chuckled incredulously at his own audacity.

But fury consumed Vinnie; his eyes burned with pure hatred. With a swift crawl, he lunged toward Axel, determined to unleash hell. Thunder rumbled in the sky, matching the fury in Vinnie’s heart.

“Enough!” Ed snapped, leaping off the tree and grappling with Vinnie, a force like wrangling a rampaging beast. “You’re not doing anything of the sort!” he ordered firmly, holding Vinnie in a vice grip.

“Let me go, I’ll throttle him!” Vinnie screamed, a tempest of anger echoing through the storm.

“You’ll calm the hell down!” Ed insisted, his voice low and authoritative. “Take a breather. We’ll find a stream to clean up your dress shirt.”

Vinnie fell silent, but his seething anger simmered beneath the surface. “It’s not over,” he seethed.

“It’s over now because I say so,” Ed shot back, his gaze shifting between the two boys. Axel smirked through a bloodied lip, riling the air with tension.

Ed sighed, fingers pressing into his forehead, striving to ease the rising pressure. He couldn’t afford migraines from this turmoil.

“You’re better than this,” Ed lectured Vinnie, trying to appeal to reason. “You studied at the finest medical schools in the galaxy…”

“At the finest fucking schools!” Vinnie spat at Axel, a triumphant smirk dancing across his lips. “While you pranced around like a pansy, I saved lives and made a meaningful…”

Before Vinnie could finish, Axel charged. Ed lunged, arms outstretched, trying to keep them apart. “Enough! I am the damned president!” Ed's voice surged, surprising even himself. The cigarette slipped from his fingers, now mostly burnt out.

“Damn whore!” Vinnie sneered, a smirk painting his face, but Axel’s restrained punch found its mark, snapping Vinnie’s head backward.

“Idiot!” Axel retorted sharply, retaliating as Vinnie gripped and yanked Axel’s silvery-blond hair, eliciting a cry in the moonlit night.

“Enough!” Ed screamed, his voice cutting through the chaos. In a flurry of movement, they were each struck twice, Ed pulling them back before things escalated further.

In the moonlit gloom, blood trickled from Vin and Axel’s nostrils, a reflection of the storm brewing between them. Ed cast a sharp glance at the pair. “Ready to start acting like grown men?” His voice cut through the night, met with faint nods. “Fine.” He pushed them both away with a decisive thrust. Vinnie regained his balance, but Axel stumbled, falling back into the mud.

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Ed stood, chest heaving with each breath, fists clenched, blood smeared and a bruise blossoming between his knuckles. Silence fell, and the boys stared, especially Axel, who couldn’t fathom what just happened. He’d never known Ed had martial skills like that.

Before more fights could erupt, insults hurled, or the night could spiral further, a beacon emerged in the darkness. “Hey!” Joseph’s shout echoed from afar, crimson censure visible even in the darkness.

“Hey,” Ed responded, a smirk playing on his lips. Vin and Axel couldn’t fathom how quickly he had them on the ground, let alone smirk while they were still catching their breaths, the adrenaline pounding in their chests.

Joseph approached with a joint in hand, his braided hair draped across his chest. Another figure trailed behind him. “Isaac came along too?” Ed inquired.

Isaac waved casually. “Yeah,” he replied with a shrug. “Was either go to the doctors or take my shift. Boss wouldn’t let me work after the doc visit.”

“So, you didn’t get paid?” Ed pressed.

Isaac shrugged off the concern, stepping forward into view. “Forget it. One day won’t hurt. I’d rather miss work today than miss the party.” He glanced at Joseph. “Mind if I have some?”

Without a word, Joseph passed him the joint. Isaac’s smirk widened, his eyes reddened and relaxed, as if he might cry. He glanced around, noticing Axel and Vin had joined.

In the moonlight, Isaac stood tall, a latecomer to the Sons, marked by the ascendancy spikes. His origins were a mystery, but he bore the Sons’ signature height, a mane of light brown hair slicked back with pomade, and brown eyes so deep they appeared black. Athletic and with a robust posture, he surveyed the scene.

“You guys too…” Isaac grimaced, observing their injuries. “What the hell happened to you lot?” he inquired.

Ed let out a sigh, his gaze shifting between the others and the two embroiled in conflict. “Just a little roughhousing,” he fibbed, sighing again. “Nothing more, nothing less,” he assured as the pair struggled to regain their composure.

Axel bounced back quicker, but Vinnie was still wrestling with the effects of his drinks. “Are you still heading to the party?” Joseph asked, gesturing to the commotion. “After all of... this?” He gestured vaguely.

“Yes,” Ed declared firmly. “We're all going, and this…” He glanced pointedly at Axel and Vinnie, “is not acceptable,” he warned sharply.

Both Vin and Axel rolled their eyes in unison, but Ed kept his focus on them. “I'm serious… If you two can't keep it together, and you're just going to bicker and brawl all night, do it within the walls of House Mars. I don't want the other houses witnessing our discord.”

Groans and sighs escaped Vin and Axel. “Fine,” Vinnie grumbled, “I'll behave, while this pretty boy…” he jabbed.

“Pretty boy!” Axel echoed. Joseph and Isaac exchanged eye rolls and facepalms. “Watch your mouth before I…”

“Enough!” Ed's voice rang out, silencing even the forest's creatures. He pointed sternly at the pair. “Enough. Sort it out at home or leave, because if you bring this nonsense to the party, I'll…” He left the threat hanging.

“Fine,” Axel acquiesced, and Vinnie let out a resigned sigh, more composed now, hand resting on the back of his head.

“I'm good,” Vin replied.

Ed paused, observing them. Maybe it was the tone, maybe it was the threat, or maybe sheer exhaustion had cleared their heads, making them realize the foolishness of their squabble. Exhaustion had a way of sobering men’s minds.

With a sigh, the group began to walk. Ed found himself flanking Joseph and Isaac, realizing he'd distanced himself from Vin and Axel. The two, still simmering with restrained fury, avoided each other, sticking to opposite ends of the path, a wide gap between them. Ed noticed and sneered, redirecting his attention ahead.

“Dramatic lot,” Ed muttered under his breath.

Isaac glanced at Joseph, their eyes and hands communicating silently. Isaac responded with a series of gestures, Joseph's hands quickly replying, and then nodded towards Ed.

“I'm only doing this because you're too high to handle it,” Isaac muttered to himself, turning towards Ed.

Ed remained silent for a moment, feeling the weight of Isaac's gaze on him. “Everything alright?” he inquired. He hadn't known Isaac and Joseph were fluent in sign language, a skill that might prove useful.

Isaac sighed, choosing not to speak, but instead motioned across his head. Maybe a direct approach was more effective than beating around the bush.

“So, what went down back there?” he asked.

“Will you just… shut it,” Joseph interjected hurriedly, his red eyes scanning the surroundings. “I thought this was supposed to be a simple party…”

“Yeah, a party, I guess…” Ed began, but he sighed. “Listen, you guys really don’t understand how this school operates. I know it's hard to believe, but things aren’t always as they seem. You have to be cautious around the other houses. If only there were upperclassmen left in our house, we could’ve…”

Isaac smirked. “Yeah, a party,” and suddenly all the color drained from Ed's face. Amidst all he had said, Isaac had fixated on just one word: party. “I'm really excited for this party. I’ve got a new job, and the semester hasn’t even started. I don’t have to wake up early or eat ramen for breakfast… I have a whole week to just mess around. Now, you ugly lot,” He paused, turning to the two boys trailing them. “I won’t let you ruin the chances of meeting potential women, suitors, or lovers, whatever you call them. Quit…the…nonsense.”

They all stood shocked at Isaac's outburst. Vin and Axel exchanged glances, then redirected their attention to Isaac. Axel was about to speak, but Vin beat him to it.

“Fine, whatever,” Vin replied, hurrying to catch up. “I’ll behave,” he muttered.

“Good,” Isaac said, smirking as Ed noticed the bookbag he carried. His smirk widened as Isaac unveiled its contents for the others to see.

“Whoa,” Vin exclaimed, eyes lighting up.

“Behave and you'll get your share,” Isaac said, leering. He nodded toward Ed with a suggestive grin. “Even the prez gets a piece, free of charge.”

Ed offered a small smirk and breathed a sigh of relief. They continued through the dense undergrowth and...

“What's this?” Ed asked, holding an object in both hands. It was a flask, metallic and about the size of a small plastic water bottle. He took a sip, only to have bitterness and fire scorch down his throat, causing him to spit it out.

Coughing, Ed looked up to find the others staring. Isaac was smirking, taking a hearty gulp without flinching. Joseph followed suit, and Vin took a swig, while Axel's attempt seemed more awkward and hesitant than the rest.

"What the heck was that," Ed muttered as he wiped the spit from his lips.

"That's some good old-fashioned Argo I moonshine," Isaac declared with a gleeful smirk, one hand on his hip. "Taste it, you lot. That's the taste of my home."

"Is that why it tastes like shit?" Joseph quipped, quick on the retort.

Isaac shot him a look, met with eye-rolling and a smirk from Joseph.

The boys began drinking the potent liquor as they collectively veered off the path, cutting through the raw wilderness of the forest. Ed's mental reverie was disrupted by the curses emanating from shoes meeting mud or, unfortunately, animal droppings. The chatter, the banter, and the laughter made him smile. They were a ragtag bunch, but they seemed tough, and more importantly, they seemed alright.

Turning around, Ed noticed Axel, dirtied and bloodied, clutching the flask with both hands.

"You good?" Ed asked, sensing the awkwardness in the question that seemed more presidential than compassionate.

Axel sighed and nodded. Ed hesitated, unsure of how to proceed.

"Listen, I know Vinnie wasn't in the right, but you two can't be fighting like that," Ed started, and Axel rolled his eyes at the lecture. Ed cut him off with a stern glare. "No, Axel. Yes, you come from a noble lineage, both paternal and genetic, but that doesn't inherently make you superior to others or your fellow knights."

Axel grimaced. "So, you're not going to say anything to..."

Ed cast a glance toward Vinnie. "I'll deal with him later," he said, turning his gaze back to Axel. "...however, you're talking with me right now. I don't approve of this infighting within the house. It will only breed lousy morale and show weakness to the other houses. We must stand together."

Axel looked at Ed, and for a moment, Ed thought he might argue or become more defensive. However, Axel sighed, and his gaze fell. He didn’t speak, but it felt like a non-verbal concession.

"Cheer up," Ed said, a hint of a drunken tone seeping in. "These are your brothers. We're going to eat together, shit together, and fight alongside each other. I'd rather you be a friend or ally than some dude I've got to keep an eye out for."

Axel started to raise his head to respond, but...

"Hey, look at this," Joseph exclaimed, drawing their attention to the cries of the group ahead.

In the midst of the dense forest, shrouded by harsh fog and persistent rain, the Sons of Mars stumbled upon an enigma. Vinnie, taken aback, knelt before it in astonishment, beckoning Ed and Axel to join him.

"Whoa," Ed murmured, his words swallowed by the eerie silence that surrounded them.

A massive tree stood before them, its trunk obscured by the unforgiving weather. Nestled within the intricate roots of the colossal arboreal giant was a suit of armor, rain-soaked and neglected, yet emanating an air of undeterred resolve.

"Is that a whole suit of power armor in the forest?" Isaac questioned, his smile fading as he gazed upon the discovery. He raised an incredulous thumb. "Who was the idiot that lost it?"

"More like abandoned it," Ed retorted, striding closer for a thorough examination. He observed the design and turned back to the group.

Advancing cautiously, Ed found his feet sinking into a concealed pit, bringing him eye-level with the suit. Seizing the helmet by its throat, he wrenched it free, the hiss of released air accompanying the eerie silence. As his eyes adjusted to the dimness, he discerned a barcode.

"It's not Martian plate, if that's what everyone's thinking. It's old, like training plate," Ed explained.

Vinnie, inebriated but entertained, laughed heartily. "Training plate could still put someone through the wringer. I remember during football, we used lightweight training power armor for conditioning. One guy nearly plowed into another unarmored teammate. Coach went ballistic, could've torn straight through the poor lad."

"A grim tale," Joseph noted. "The kind that makes a man ponder his existence."

"No need to tell me twice," Vin responded with a smirk, taking another hearty gulp from his flask, followed by a fit of wheezing and coughing.

Edward secured the helmet back in place, but before they continued, his gaze fixated on the battle-scarred suit. The chest displayed dings and scorched marks, as if it had weathered a storm of slashes and burns. But what caught his attention were the bullet gashes along the thighs and shoulders.

Yet, it was what lay near the armor's right leg that surprised him. Placing it in both hands, the Sons of Mars, a mix of shock and surprise on their faces, laughed nervously as they stared at Edward.

"Whoa, Eddie!" Vinnie exclaimed.

"Yeah, Ed!" Joseph added. "What the heck, that's not a toy."

In Edward’s hands rested a two-handed sword, distinct from the conventional blades of the empire. This was an energy sword, a weapon with a special battery that, when activated, enveloped the blade in a potent energy coat capable of slicing through the thickest WarCasket plate.

Edward's was a standard variant, handled with practiced finesse. "You've got good control," Isaac remarked.

Edward shot back a smirk and twirled the weapon effortlessly, a graceful dance that spoke volumes. "Oh, indeed," he replied, playing with the blade, moving faster and more agilely, relishing the attention from the others as he let the sword lead him.

"Too slow," he silently challenged himself, quickening his pace to a dash of silver. With a flick, the blade lit up from guard to tip, a faint, ethereal blue hue enveloping the edges.

"The blade's no good," Axel snorted dismissively.

"Isn't the blade good enough for you, pretty boy?" Vinnie retorted, but Axel shook his head.

"Explain," demanded Isaac, silencing them all. "Why do you say it's bad?"

Axel sighed. "The potency of the blade is revealed through its color." As they observed the display in the dark, the slightly inebriated Ed pushed the button, and once again, the weapon flared in fiery blue light.

Axel continued, capturing everyone's attention in the nocturnal dance. "That blade is strong. Blue is the weakest...but the soul of the blade burns."

"The soul?" Isaac echoed, a surreal quality in his tone. "What do you mean by that, pretty knight?"

Yet, Axel was lost in the spectacle, in the vivid memory of a long-forgotten time. His mind took him back to a distant past, memories intertwined with the aroma of meat pies and fresh beers. He could recall the strange things from his life before Mars fell—larger-than-life moments, his mother cradling him, his proximity to the Queen, and the honeyed scent of her perfume. Amidst these fleeting recollections, one image remained vivid: the dazzling dance of swords performed by the golden boy.

Axel shook his head, battling the turmoil within. He had been adrift for years. Prophecies lay shattered in the recesses of lost galaxies. The loss of their golden boy had condemned them to failure. Yet, they were still alive, and that counted for something.

"The damned blade is fiery and explosive. Ed, you be damn careful with that thing. Don't crank that past ten...damned stub maker," Axel warned, with a tinge of concern.

"Stub maker," Arthur, the quiet one, added with a snort. His gaze fixed on the scene unfolding before him. "The mines I worked at loved using plasma armaments," he explained, his brown eyes betraying a hint of grief. "Stub makers..." He shook his head in dismay.

The air thickened, charged with anticipation and sweat clinging to their skin. The sword's energy flickered, its edges singed, and as Ed rested it against his shoulder, a swift burn stung him. Axel's eyes remained fixated on the blade, his thoughts transcending mere admiration—something more, something ancient and Mars-like.

Axel shot Edward a look, his mind echoing with doubts and distant possibilities, a whisper of something unbelievable, yet compelling.

"Guys!" A scream sliced through the forest, a chilling sound that jolted everyone into immediate alertness. Some were high, others were drunk, yet each instinctively adopted a combat stance. Joseph readied his fists defensively, Axel positioned himself in a martial stance, even Ed and Arthur adopted a ready posture.

The rest, however, lacked any semblance of preparedness or skill. Ed recognized their need for improvement, a pressing concern in case they were dispatched on missions. Time was short, and their deficiencies were a looming threat.

"August?" Isaac was the first to address him.

August, with his dark hair and shorter stature among them, bore the insignia of his knight order like the others. Despite his slight frame, he possessed a modest amount of muscle. His brown-rimmed glasses accentuated his light green eyes, shining like lush moss. His hair, a wild mop of rich black, fell unevenly in a bowl cut, at times unruly.

"Hey, guys," August spoke, his words a stuttering whisper.

"Jesus Christ!" Axel snapped, his impatience evident. "After screaming for us, that's all you got?"

"Enough, Axel," Ed interjected sharply.

Turning his attention to August, Ed inquired, "What happened?"

August stuttered, visibly distressed and teetering on the edge of tears. Some among them lacked empathy, their impatience palpable. "Me and Tyson, we were walking here. He had work and agreed to show me the way. And I, I..." His words stumbled, trapped in fear.

Edward observed August's distress, empathizing with the boy's plight. However, not everyone shared this sentiment. "Spit it out!" Axel jeered mockingly.

"Yeah, pretty knight, I agree!" Vinnie chimed in, the two laughing heartily. "Come on, guys," Joseph chided curtly, trying to calm himself from the sudden anxiety triggered by August's distress.

"Me and T-Tyson, we were..."

Edward watched as tears welled in August's eyes, recognizing genuine distress, not the antics of a boy crying wolf. August struggled to articulate his words, the effort etched on his face, while Axel and Vinnie mercilessly taunted him.

"You're a freaking spazz. Sputtering like a bee. No, rather like a fly. Fly…Flee…Fleeboy!" Axel hollered, reveling in the newly coined nickname. "Fleeboy's got a nice ring to..." Vinnie mused, cut short as Edward seized him by the shirt cuff, wrenching him towards him.

"Enough!" snapped Ed. "I am getting real tired of this." He turned his attention back to August. "Speak up. What's got you so scared?"

August, now resolute, gulped before revealing, "Tyson agreed to show me where the party was, so I wouldn't get lost. We planned on meeting up with you there, but a bunch of guys came out from the brush...they…"

August broke into tears, and Ed released Axel, turning to face the distressed boy. "What happened?"

Breathing heavily, August recounted, "Me and Tyson tried to fight them off, but there were more than we expected. I escaped, but Tyson..."

"Jesus Christ," Vinnie muttered.

Isaac nodded in agreement. "Yeah, that's fucking barbaric."

"Patch colors. Tell me what colors their houses were," Ed demanded.

"Blue," August stammered. "I couldn't see everyone's individual shoulder patterns, but there was this crazy bastard with a knife. When me and Ty saw him, we froze up. That's when the real bastards got the jump on us. I remember his badge."

Ed signaled for him to continue. "A blue trident within the crescent of a blue moon."

Ed chuckled at that, drawing curious looks. "Something funny?" Axel questioned.

"Nothing," Ed brushed it off, striding in the direction August had come from. "This way, huh, August?"

"Um, yes," August replied.

"Wait, where are you going?" Arthur questioned.

Ed snorted. "Well, as you can see, the trident heraldry, that's Logan of Neptune we're talking about here. A bunch of Neptune cronies jumped August and Tyson, and now they pulled out a knife," Ed sneered at the harsh reality. "We didn't start a damned thing. And now they want a war?"

Axel shot an accusatory glare at Ed. "I bet it was because he had issues with them because he was a mutant."

"Watch yourself, Axel," snapped Arthur, his brown eyes piercing. "Tyson may have mutations, but he is still a person and shall be treated as such."

Amidst the inky shadows of the forest, Axel's smirk played on the edge of cruelty. "Oh really?" he said. "From what I’ve heard, he’s been fighting Neptune cronies with that country hick, what’s his name? Hen something, Henry, but it’s..."

"Henryk," Ed finished. "You speak of Henryk and Tyson. From what I’ve heard, Henryk was defending Tyson from a bunch of bullies, and now it seems that those same bullies are trying to strike him again."

On the other side of the woods, deep within the sinister corners that only the brave dared tread, drunken groups waded and hollered through the night, leaving this particular spot untouched. Illuminated solely by hololights, they were allowed to act.

Logan gripped the knife, the others watching as they encircled the battered and bruised mutant in a macabre dance. Tyson, his arms resting on his knees, head hung low, bore the marks of a brutal exchange. Blood seeped from his nose, a popped lip sending a trickle down his throat. His matted hair framed his defeated posture, and those gleefully observing smirked at the brutal spectacle. Although his hands were clean, he clutched the knife, yet it trembled within his grasp.

Logan's azure eyes blazed a surreal fiery blue as he stared at Tyson, who raised his head only to receive a brutal kick across his face. Dazed and battered, he coughed, bile staining his uniform, the ominous red stain marking his fall onto his belly.

The once-antagonist now lay limp as Logan turned to face the aggressor. Jaicob, the man with the buzzed-off head, stood with an air of intimidation. Even in the midst of Logan's pride, Jaicob's presence struck fear. His pale skin seemed ghostlike, his eyes beady and black, reminiscent of a shark lurking in the depths.

"Do it, Logan," Jaicob urged. The knife wavered in Logan's hand as he struggled for control. Jaicob sneered and loomed over him. "Hand over the blade...I’ll slit the abomination’s throat!"

In the distance, someone approached. Rain battered Simon's glasses, and the rims almost appeared like bubbles. Logan wondered how he could see. Simon raised his hands, questioning their actions. "What the hell are you two doing?" he demanded, glancing at the unconscious Tyson. He understood the gravity of the situation, recoiling as he released the pair.

"What...what is this?" Simon sputtered at first, his voice then roaring like a lion. "What have you done to him!"

Jaicob scoffed. "Dealing with mutant scum on academy grounds." Simon, visibly horrified, stared at Tyson's motionless form, resembling a corpse. "Are you trying to start a house war between Mars and Neptune?" Simon scoffed, casting his gaze through the woods and then back at the gruesome scene. "I will be speaking to Stella about this!" he proclaimed.

In the moonlit shadows, Logan's eyes widened with a hint of remorse as Jaicob, with unabated aggression, confronted Simon. Pointing a forceful finger against Simon's chest, Jaicob uttered, "Listen here, you fucking border hopper..."

"Leave him alone," Logan unexpectedly interjected, surprising the others. He sighed, "We traded for Clive, and now he is one of us."

Ignoring Logan's plea, Jaicob seized Simon by the arms, lifting him slightly and pushing him harshly against a wooden log. Simon's eyes flared at the bizarre turn of events, and he pushed Jaicob away, meeting the narrowing glare with defiance.

"Enough of this!" Logan's voice echoed through the tense atmosphere as he grabbed Jaicob by the shoulder and forcefully turned him around. "If you attack him, you are attacking a future citizen of Neptune! Listen to me, you damned mad dog! Until he graduates, he is a citizen. It doesn’t matter that he was born on either Mercury or a backwater world along the frontier. He is one of us now!"

The pause was broken by the sound of rustling from the woods. Franklin emerged, eyes deep within the darkness, mechanical overholes glinting. His teeth gleamed white as his gaze swept over the scene, including the struggling Tyson. Approaching Tyson, who was trying to crawl away, Franklin addressed the group.

"What are you lot doing?" he asked, shaking his head slowly. Drawing a pocket knife from his pocket, he played with it between his fingers. "My daddy told me stories about things like this. A purge, ridding the mutant and anything truly alien for our perfect society." His fingers touched the coat of fur along the back of Tyson's throat. "Abhor the mutant, the galaxy shall be purged from any source of corruption caused by the alien. We are God’s species, and who else but we…"

Turning back to the men, Tyson attempted to run, but Franklin gripped him firmly by the shoulder. "Shh, don't fight it," Franklin leered at Tyson as his claws clawed desperately into the dirt. Looking at the others of Neptune, Franklin maintained his grip, a sense of ominous authority in his demeanor.

Simon, unaware of their ways, watched with confusion, while Logan and Jaicob regarded Franklin with a superstitious awe, recognizing his status as Franklin of The Moon. As Tyson begged for mercy through pain, Franklin remained resolute, uttering, "I did you lot no wrong. I didn't even raise a hand to you. Please, I am begging you. Just let me go. I won't tell a soul."

In the darkening abyss of the forest, Logan's eyes widened, and for a fleeting moment, his tongue struggled to articulate the gravity of the situation. As Logan of Neptune, he understood that Stella might be furious, but they had crossed a line. What began as a mere drunken jest, upon Jaicob's unexpected arrival, morphed into something far darker—a war. Aware of the crippled state of House Mars, Logan dreaded the potential consequences of their actions.

"Do you remember the tenets of the blue moon?" questioned Franklin, locking eyes with them.

Jaicob affirmed, "We deny the mutant."

"Yes," Franklin continued, his gaze shifting to Tyson. He elegantly wove the blade through the air, illustrating their creed. "We deny the mutant. We cull it...exterminate it before it’s given the chance to breed and spread across the universe. Can you imagine that, any of you? Humanity's purity, corrupted and spreading throughout the known realm?"

"What is your name?" Franklin inquired, directing his focus back to Tyson.

Silent and battered, Tyson struggled underneath the weight of it all. Franklin hummed a verse of a prayer. "The moment man emerged victorious in evolution, the moment we reached for the stars. Mankind's divinity was assured; we were tested against the alien metal once, and now we've weaponized their tools. We are the conquerors, the hunters. Let them come, and they will be destroyed."

Tyson, breathing heavily, felt a surge of despair as Franklin's smile widened. "No name?" Franklin spoke firmly, clicking his lips and shaking his head. Raising the blade, he declared, "Then you'll die, abomination... I'd read you your rites, but without a name, it'd be a damn folly."

Yet, as Tyson closed his eyes, preparing for the fatal strike, he sensed an unfamiliar stomping. It reverberated like a roaring horde cutting through the brush. The sons of dead fathers, the Sons of Mars, descended upon them, screaming and hollering like a wild horde. They severed the head of the blue moon god, indulging in the bloody spectacle with crimson blades and armor. The Sons had arrived, descending upon the scene.

"You psychopaths!" screamed Arthur, charging toward Franklin. Arthur, towering at an astounding six-foot-five, unleashed a powerful blow, slamming his fist into Franklin's pale face. The battle commenced, as Tyson, battered but fueled by adrenaline, joined his comrades in the chaotic fray.

Ed's mind churned like a relentless engine, the active part of him that never seemed to sleep, keeping him awake and weary. His thoughts danced in a unique rhythm, a strength that set him apart. In the company of Vinnie, Joseph, Axel, Arthur, Isaac, and August, Ed found himself face to face with Logan of Neptune. A familiar prick in the dance of chaos.

Amidst the chaos, Ed found himself grinning at the odds, relishing the satisfying thud of his fist striking Logan of Neptune's gut. Those wide blue eyes betrayed surprise as Logan gasped for air. A smirk spread across Ed's face; hitting that infamous brat felt beyond good. He might not have known the names of the others, but their intentions were clear. The retaliation would be swift. Logan, Simon, Jaicob, and Franklin—House Neptune had provoked the smallest roster, and how small they looked now.

Isaac, Jospeh, and Vinnie rallied around Simon and Jaicob. They launched themselves at the pair, a cacophony of punches and kicks echoing through the chaos.

Ed landed another punch on Logan, watching the boy drop to his knees, struggling to suppress the bile rising in his throat. "Remember, you asked for this," Ed muttered before delivering a final blow that sent Logan crashing face-first into the dirt.

While Arthur wrestled Franklin into a headlock, Jaicob retaliated with a knife in hand. Jospeh's warning alerted Isaac, who dodged just in time. "Oh crap!" August's swift kick caught Jaicob off guard, sending him sprawling.

"Thanks, Fleeboy!" Isaac acknowledged, rising just as Jaicob charged back into the fray. "This bastard can't stay down!" Arthur yelled.

"And neither can this guy!" Axel retorted, their focus fixed on the relentless Jaicob, bloody and knife-wielding.

"We'll make him stay down," Vinnie spoke, a hint of malice underscoring his words.

Amidst the chaos, Tyson joined the fight, running toward Jaicob. Vinnie tried to dissuade him, "Tyson, you can't fight; you're injured!" But Tyson disregarded the caution, launching himself into the confrontation.

The clash unfolded with a series of slashes and dodges. Jaicob aimed to spill Tyson's bowels, slash his throat, and strike at his privates, but Ty maneuvered with agility, dodging every lethal blow. Sneering, Tyson knew what had to be done.

The decision made in anger and rage clawed at Tyson's conscience, but the searing emotions, the mistreatment, demanded retribution. His hands, coated with fur, harbored hidden claws, retracting and revealing steel knives in the moonlight. A single slash downward, a bloodcurdling scream, and Jaicob's face bore the marks of Tyson's fury, the skin resembling scratches on a chalkboard. Horror etched on the faces of both Neptune and Mars, Tyson stood in resolute silence, his breath heavy, eyes fixed on Jaicob's anguished form.

"Jesus Christ…" Vinnie's voice cut through the shocked silence.

Meanwhile, Arthur's booted foot slammed against Franklin's face, a sickening sound of breaking bone reverberating. Arthur winced at the blood seeping through his fingers, turning away from the gruesome scene. "Damned dirty business," he muttered, longing to dull his ears to the haunting screams.

Clive, battered but standing, helped Logan to his feet. Ed, having distanced himself, faced the others. Axel questioned their next move. "Are we going to let them go?"

"Yeah, I agree," echoed Vinnie, his gaze hard on the beaten figures. "They come in here, beat one of our own, even brought a knife."

Isaac considered the situation. "There's a time and place for this…"

"A time or place?" spat Axel, his gaze on Ed. "Ed, what do you want to do?"

Ed pondered the lessons his father might have imparted, the advisors guiding them through the dark expanses of space. When was enough truly enough? When did righteous justice turn into paranoid cruelty?

Sighing, Ed looked at Jaicob, now crying and wailing, the others in various states of retreat. His gaze shifted to Tyson, perplexed by Ed's actions. "We won't do a thing. Let them go," Ed declared.

"What!" Axel's protest rang out. "Edward, are you serious? They—"

"Put a sock in it," Ed interrupted, addressing the group. "That guy will forever bear the mark of Tyson's rage. Any more, and it's overkill."

As his sentence concluded, the Neptune crew scurried out of the clearing, leaving Ed to exhale a weary sigh. The night had only begun, and it had already unfurled like a dark tapestry of chaos. Ed, still grappling with the unsettling turn of events, addressed his companions. "Neptune is an enemy now. Before, I might have striven for neutrality or positive ties, but this..." He shook his head, casting a glance at the terrified and trembling Tyson.

Axel, wide-eyed, queried, "Was this really all because he was a mutant?"

Ed, choosing silence as his initial response, loomed over Tyson. "August," he called out, prompting the apprehensive August to turn toward him. "Can you take Tyson and head back to the manor?"

August groaned, "But there isn't anything to do there?"

"Then go and dip into the treasury and find something to do," Ed retorted. Arthur raised an objection, "You're letting them dip into our house money for a hangout session?"

"Look at him," Ed snapped back, directing their attention to the trembling Ty. He turned back to August. "You and Ty have been through a whole lot today. We don't have running water, an ounce of Wi-Fi, or even any damn power yet. Money? We'll get more soon."

Although still hesitant, August sighed. Ed pressed on, "You guys can't go to the party. God forbid they return and do this again to Ty, maybe then..."

"Okay," August replied simply. "Come on, Ty."

"...and August," Ed called out as they turned away, gazing at the Sons of Mars. August and Ty paused, meeting Ed's eyes. "Get Ty a drink." With that, they resumed their path, disappearing into the night, leaving behind the aftermath of a housemate brawl, a peculiar sighting in the woods, and a confrontation with the Neptune boys. The night brimmed with mounting excitement, but likewise…conflict.

Ed smirked, a sense of irony coloring his expression. "Get Ty a drink," he repeated, snickering to himself at the manner of it. Like hell a drink is going to fix what happened tonight. And within those thoughts, the ventured back into the party of destiny.