The factory lay frozen and desolate, its steel door shivering under the assault of rampaging winds. Inside, a diverse assembly of individuals from various classes, houses, and allegiances stood waiting in silence. Uncertainty loomed like a heavy fog in the room, and the question on everyone's mind was: What would happen next?

Henryk, breathing heavily, surveyed the expectant crowd. Their weapons remained clutched close to their chests, and their eyes, filled with tension, bore into their respective house leaders, eagerly awaiting commands.

Henryk's lone indigo eye swept across the room as he felt the throbbing reminders of wounds and bruises etched upon his body. With a grunt, he slammed his plasma pistol back into its holster and directed his gaze toward the writhing form of Fleeboy.

A crimson river flowed from the stump of Fleeboy's severed limb. Henryk's eyes widened as he observed the scabs forming along the burnt skin, a peculiar healing process. He backed away, and the others from House Mars watched in morbid fascination. The blood gradually ceased to flow, sealing the wound with a purplish-blackish goo.

The onlookers had witnessed the inexplicable, their eyes reflecting a mix of shock and curiosity. Henryk, however, was the one to break the silence. As Fleeboy clutched the gladius in his left hand, Henryk unclipped his helmet, attached it to his belt, and turned his attention to the writhing 'True Son.'

With a heavy breath, he raised his left finger and pointed the blade at Fleeboy. "What are you?" he demanded, his voice edged with frustration. August, with his sharklike eyes, met Henryk's piercing indigo gaze but remained silent.

An eerie silence enveloped them all. Henryk's features tightened as he drew the blade closer, eventually resting it against August's chin and drawing a drop of blood. "Speak. What are you?" he growled, his gaze shifting to the self-healed wound.

"Mutation," Arthur interjected as he advanced, leveling his weapon at Fleeboy's form. "The mutation within his spikes is too evident. To preserve the honor of 'The True Sons,' I say he dies."

"We're taking a vote now?" Edward queried as he approached their group.

Arthur maintained his unwavering focus on August but slowly nodded in response. Ed sighed, and Arthur shot him a smirk. "You're allowing this?" Arthur expressed his surprise.

"You brought it up," Edward replied calmly.

"Indeed," Arthur scratched his head, his uncertainty evident. "...but are we making this decision on our own? Just the druid, me, and you? Normally, declaring a Victius involves the entire house."

Edward nodded thoughtfully. "You bring up a valid point. An event of this magnitude should be brought before the other members of the house. The purge of an entire bloodline, especially one as esteemed as the 'True Sons,' demands a collective decision."

"So, you suggest we tie him up and drag him through this forsaken wasteland?" Arthur turned to gaze at the writhing figure of Fleeboy. "We're on the brink of a mutiny, and time's not on our side."

"August," Henryk called out once more.

Edward sighed, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "This is getting us nowhere. The mutation in his spikes must be so severe that it's affecting not only his spine but also his brain."

Arthur shrugged and turned to Edward. "I have an idea."

"What is it?" Edward inquired.

Arthur pointed at Henryk's outstretched sword. Edward raised an eyebrow. "We'll harvest his spikes after we dispose of him. Then, we'll test these spikes for mutations," he explained. Edward glanced momentarily at August but quickly averted his gaze from the boy's sight. "If they turn out clean, or if we can remove the mutations, we'll keep them. But when we're back at 'House Mars,' we'll put it to a vote."

"Bastard!" Fleeboy's voice filled the room, his dark shark-like eyes filled with loathsome hatred as he pointed a shaky, bloody finger toward Edward. "You know that this goes against the rules and rites of Mars. A Victius can only be declared when the other Knight Houses are present."

"We no longer have that luxury," Edward snapped.

"August," Henryk called out with a hint of warmth in his voice, though the two-handed grip on his sword aimed at the boy's neck contradicted that warmth.

"You can't reason with the brute," Arthur sneered.

Henryk shook his head. "No, I saw something during our fight, or rather, I felt something," he said, pausing and turning back to his companions. "You saw it too, you had to. Remember the duel, the bizarre nature of it? Fleeboy's vocal cords stretched, and he unleashed a primal scream. There was something when he was launched, the way his limbs contorted and he was flung back during the fight."

Arthur groaned. "You're new, druid," he said, shaking his head. "You don't know the tales and legends surrounding the true capabilities of those spikes. Fleeboy's spikes have mutated, and he's given us the final reason, on top of a mountain of reasons, to put an end to this."

Arthur scorned at the writhing form, clicking his lips and shaking his head. “Our only regret should be how long it took for us to get this done.”

“New?” scoffed Henryk, his tone sharp without needing to face Arthur. “I've been a halfbreed for two years. We've fought together, studied together, honed our skills together. Don't lecture me on the rites of Mars. This is my duty as a druid.”

“That's enough, Arthur,” interrupted Edward, glancing once more at Fleeboy. “Enough,” he repeated, his words weary.

For a beat, there was nothing, until Henryk's widened eyes scanned House Neptune, his sword still held tightly. “Melissa,” he said, eyes wide. “Where is she?”

Edward shrugged, his eyes widening as he scanned the crowd. Melissa was nowhere to be seen, his gaze scanning through the groups of houses seeking shelter.

“Stella, where is Melissa?” Edward asked, looking to the proud president of House Neptune.

She sneered, and a moment later, Melissa emerged from the crowd, her hands bloodied and her expression distressed. She quickly rejoined them, standing by Fleeboy for a moment, her medical bag gripped tightly, before taking three steps away from the injured boy.

“Henryk, do it,” snapped Edward, but Henryk didn’t move. Sweat beaded on his brow as he stared into Fleeboy's dark eyes.

“Henryk,” Edward called, softer this time. “He’s out of control. You want to rein him in. I've known how you and the others have felt about Fleeboy for a long time. Don't you want him dead?”

“I do,” Henryk snapped back at Edward. “…but there’s something so strange about him that I never expected. There's this black smoke around him, and I can feel its malevolence…”

Henryk paused, lips pursed, his eyes returning to Fleeboy. “What are you going on about, Henryk?” questioned Arthur. “Kill him,” he paused, positioning the massive calibre in front of him, the barrel aimed at Fleeboy. “Or I will,” he said, chilling coolness in his voice.

“Why are you hesitating?” Edward asked. “Hesitation is unlike you, Henryk.”

“Hesitation. I heard August scream from within him,” snarled Henryk, gripping the blade with both hands, raising it behind himself.

“What are you lot talking about!” Zephyr screamed.

The man turned to face them, much like the others, uttering words of power, but to Henryk and his friends, the mystical incantations made no sense. Hidden within their chants lay cryptic secrets, shrouded in obscure legends. The trio understood that these enigmatic words would remain unfathomed.

They chose to ignore him.

Henryk, however, had no intention of turning a blind eye. He scoffed, his voice laden with anger. "I don't know what you are—some alien fungus infecting my friend's brain or something else entirely—but I'll hack off your limbs until you release August!" His words reverberated through the chamber.

"Whoa, Henryk!" Edward intervened, appearing right in front of his enraged friend.

"What are you doing? Move!" Henryk's voice roared with wild intensity, his eyes ablaze.

Edward raised both his hands and shot a sidelong glance, not just at August, but also at the other houses. Weapons were still brandished, and the atmosphere remained tense. Now, they had an injured comrade, and one of their own had harmed the pride and joy of House Neptune.

Stella, on the brink of tears, watched the scene unfold, and Arthur turned his attention to Melissa. "How is he?" he inquired, his gaze darting between Ed and Henryk, who continued to argue.

Melissa sighed, her annoyance palpable. "How do you think?" She retorted, disbelief underpinning her words. "Fleeboy's axe nearly ripped him in half. It's a miracle his organs or stomach lining weren't torn apart."

"Is he…" Arthur began to ask, but Melissa nodded slowly and sighed.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Awkwardness pervaded her as she felt the collective eyes of onlookers upon them. House Mars was known for its flair for the dramatic, and she shot a brief glance at their quirky president.

Clasping her arms around herself, she continued, "I did the best I could, Henryk did the best he could, and the rest is up to Neptune and their wizards and healers."

Arthur's chest constricted as he gazed at the sea of people from Neptune surrounding Logan as their medics worked on him. It didn't sit well with him that his house was responsible for this. What was meant to be a cooperative mission had turned into a disaster. Fleeboy, in his madness, had nearly killed Logan, the pride and hope of Neptune. Mars would undoubtedly face the consequences.

He couldn't help but reflect on the possible solutions, his mind drifting briefly to Clive. How many problems might have been averted if their enemies had been eliminated earlier?

His gaze settled on a girl within the crowd, and he narrowed his eyes, directing his attention towards her. "Girl!" he bellowed, every eye turning toward him. The young girl, clad in a ragged dress, crouched among the members of House Neptune, her eyes filling with fear at the sound of his voice.

"Damn brutes," another girl muttered, taking the hand of a companion. A tangle of blond hair framed striking blue eyes as she cast her gaze their way.

"Hello, Callie," Arthur scoffed, his tone dripping with disdain.

"Hello, Arthur," Callie retorted, her grip on the girl tightening. "You boys of House Mars have done enough. Deal with your own issues and stop getting the houses muddled within it."

Arthur sneered. "You think we're the ones getting involved in everyone's business?" His gaze turned icy and penetrating, like a laser scanning the room.

"We're the ones that started playing politics?" he continued with a deranged laugh. "Are you that much of a fool?"

"Who else can it be?" Callie retorted with frustration.

Arthur shrugged. "We all play politics to survive, girl," he hissed the last word, infused with venom. His voice grew harsher, his gaze steeled, as he surveyed the room.

"Some more than others," he added, glancing around the room at their allies and adversaries, the sons and daughters of the rich and poor. They were weaponizing the situation. Arthur had to remember that House Mars had the fewest members, and they would try to weaponize this conflict to turn the others against them.

His fingers curled into fists. "Do you realize that girl was amongst the bandits?" he challenged.

Callie looked down at the girl, stunned. "Look at you, making friends with the enemy!" Arthur exclaimed with an unrestrained laugh. "You dogs of Neptune, you always make the poorest decisions."

"You speak!" A fiery-haired boy emerged from the crowd, unruly brown hair framing his defiant eyes. Franklin, his lips parting as he aimed his rifle at Arthur. "You watch your tongue, or I..."

"You watch your tongue," Melissa snapped, silencing the room with her command. Her hand hovered at her side, concealed pistol ready.

Melissa's gaze turned toward the members of House Neptune. "You speak to the Knights of Mars, the proud sons of the red sands. Do not hurl lies upon them."

"A bunch of disgracers, a bunch of traitors!" Franklin snarled back. "You damn lot have been causing trouble at the academy for nearly two years at this point. How many damn duels and battles have started because of you lot!"

"...and how many duels were issued against them on their own accord?" Zephyr countered, his voice cutting through the tense air.

"Shut up," Edward's voice reverberated through the room, and Zephyr and the others turned to him. His hands were at his sides now, his loathsome gaze fixed on Franklin.

Edward unsheathed his sword, and a few members of House Mercury followed suit to protect their president. But Zephyr remained still, silent, taking it all in.

"You shut your damn mouth," Edward spat, his narrowed eyes dripping with venom. "Don't you dare rush to my defense to play the friend after what you did to Natalie. I should gut you like the damn lying pig you are!"

"Enough of this!" Arthur screamed, leveling his massive caliber in his grip. The crowd took a few steps back to distance themselves from the confrontation. "Enough talk. Do you want to resolve this with words or lead and steel?"

Melissa's eyes widened, and she whispered, "You're really going to do this now?"

"We don't seem to have a choice," Arthur replied.

Franklin scoffed and raised a pointed finger. "I'm a senior, and I was at this academy as a sophomore before you all showed up. House Mars was already a mess before my time, but I never expected it to be a broken world, a house in ruins. I never expected that some would betray their own planet loyalties to become a Martian!"

He pointed at Melissa, and for a moment, she hung her head in shame. "You damn dogs have brought so much trouble."

Arthur chuckled and laughed at Franklin. Franklin took a step forward, but before anything could escalate, another voice cut through the tension. It was Bracken, the president of House Pluto, his power armor adorned with the deep orange pulsing lights.

"Are you really going to blame House Mars for everything that's happened in these two years?" Bracken stepped forward, his warrior ace Tobias holding an empty laser blade hilt at his side.

Franklin winced, and Bracken scoffed at his reaction. "You talk about betraying your planet loyalties, but both you and Henryk hail from the frontier, don't you?"

Franklin shook his head. "I aligned myself with House Neptune. There is—"

Bracken clasped his hands together and smirked. "So, a hypocrite."

Franklin scoffed and glanced at Henryk, who was still standing over August with the blade in his hand. The others wondered if Henryk would finally deliver the long-delayed judgment with his divine blade. Their thoughts echoed the same: it was time to pass the final verdict.

But Bracken wasn't finished. He scoffed and surveyed the room. "Maybe House Mars had an impact on everything, but let's not confuse facts with fiction. Let's find out what truly started all of this."

Stella couldn't help but scoff. "What are you going on about here?"

Bracken shot her a look. "Really?" He tilted his head toward her. "Maybe because there are people in this room who need to own their sins." He gestured toward everyone, his mighty Warhammer resting on the steel floor.

"You think this is really the time for that?" Zephyr said, drawing his pistol as the others from House Mercury followed suit.

The room erupted as everyone reached for their weapons. Even Fleeboy managed to get up and stood with the ranks of House Mars, his black eyes peering from the helmet's red eyeholes. His fingers tensed on the gladius as the fear and distrust permeated the room.

Piper's hands trembled on her gun, and her gaze darted toward Henryk, who was nursing his wounds, his blade at the ready.

"What are we going to do?" Henryk asked.

Edward shook his head, hearing a derisive snicker from Henryk. "Do you really think we can shoot our way out of this?" Arthur snapped.

Edward scoffed. "Why don't you say that a bit louder," he retorted, gesturing to their sides. "Our allies might rally with us."

"I think they're more focused on taking out their enemies," Arthur finished.

They watched as Henryk's hand moved to his back, slamming his blade into the metal floor. He pulled out his book, his fingers tracing the pages.

"W-What are you doing?" Fleeboy asked, his gladius at the ready. The feral member of House Mars was under scrutiny.

Bracken regarded it with shock and pointed it out to his house. Silent mutterings spread through the crowd. "It still fights with them?" someone remarked. "His body has healed even after such an injury?"

Stella watched in astonishment. "Even now, the beast of Mars fights with them."

Zephyr snickered, standing close to her. She scowled at him. "You have something to say, Zephyr?"

"Say what you will, but the Martians have no loyalty," he remarked.

Stella pondered the words for a moment and repeated them under her breath. "The Martians know loyalty." As she spoke, her mind wandered to the past and the present, and her gaze settled on a small group of about twenty, remaining silent, with their own hidden motivations and agendas.

Her eyes drifted to the figure at the center of the room. A tall man, muscular and imposing, appeared in his prime, concealed beneath futuristic, milky-white armor. She looked away, focusing her attention on Logan. Doctors surrounded him, making it hard for her to see past his shoulder. Yet, the mysterious white knight remained on her mind.

Stella clicked her lips and shook her head. "Martians know loyalty," she scoffed, turning away from Zephyr's gaze. "You really are an idiot, Zephyr," she concluded.

Bracken's chuckle echoed through the room, stealing everyone's attention. His Warhammer rested over his shoulder with one hand, and the members of Pluto had their weapons ready, but seemingly off safety.

"You wish to speak of the past?" Ed inquired.

Bracken seemed surprised. "You want to talk, Eddie?" He replied with a playful tone, laced with a hint of drunkenness. "I've had many conversations with Henryk, and he's told me that the past, present, and future are often open to interpretation for good old Ed."

Edward burst into hearty laughter. There was a moment of pause as he composed himself. "No," he said, waving his off-sword hand dismissively. "I just think it's a good idea for people to understand who they've really been following. Honestly, I could have a conversation with some of the folks here..."

Ed's gaze shifted to the white knight. The attention of the crowd followed suit. Even Fleeboy harbored intense disdain for the white knight, who gazed menacingly in their direction. But another voice arose from the crowd, stealing the spotlight, as the story of the white knight and the ensuing issues would be addressed later.

A man made his way through the crowd first, pausing within his house. He wore power armor concealed beneath a heavy coat, with an elegant dueling sword secured in a leathery scabbard, adorned with intricate runes and artwork of pagan design. A lone snake slithered amongst the illustrations, coiling around the scabbard's tang. A snake devouring itself, surrounded by other symbols: the viper, the snake, the devil. Humans, intertwining in a dance of their own desires. Man and woman, man and snake. To them, Darwin was wrong.

He had tanned skin and a regal purple coat, accented with golden strands that lined his jacket. His long, jet-black hair cascaded wildly down to his neck. What caught the eye was the purple of his irises, a shade slightly lighter than Henryk's own mutation.

He approached Henryk, who had driven his blade into the steel floor of the ruined factory. Both of them locked eyes, the malice and camaraderie between them palpable. Two warriors who had crossed blades and shared battles.

"Hello, Jace," Henryk greeted.

…and the pain was in the names.

Ed observed the two young men for a moment, their exhaustion apparent. It wasn't the weariness of the planet or the recent duel that weighed them down. No, it was the burden of mutual loathing they had carried for too long. They had crossed paths one time too many.

Jace moved closer, his gaze struggling to meet Henryk's. He found it hard to look him in the eye, as Henryk's once bright blue eyes now bore a deep indigo shade. The height difference was another striking change—where Jace had been shorter by a head, he now towered over Henryk at a formidable six foot five, with greater muscle and strength. Still, Jace harbored no fear of the Martian halfbreed.

Taking another step forward, Jace locked eyes with Henryk. "If you want to revisit the past, Henryk, I'll oblige," he declared. "Do you recall the first time we clashed? The things you've done... what you did to Marri."

Henryk started to respond, anger etched across his face, but then he hesitated and fell silent. "No words, Henryk?" Jace taunted. "You've always been a coward, never had the guts to face me and..."

"Shut your mouth!" Henryk snapped, turning to face Jace. "I've apologized countless times for what happened with Marrinette. I think of her every night before I fall asleep. I see her when I think of my sisters and mother. Do you have any idea what I do to even dream without seeing her face in anguish, burning in that..."

"Quit pretending you care!" Jace screamed.

"You weren't the one who cared!" Henryk shouted back, jabbing a finger at Jace. "She died because of you!"

"Enough of this!" Jace bellowed, his gaze sweeping across the room. His next words burst forth like a triumphant cannon. Tears streamed from his eyes as he vented his anger on the hero of the story, the tormentor of Mars.

"Tell them!" Jace screamed, and shame enveloped Henryk's soul. His mouth went dry as he stared at the floor. "Tell them!" Jace repeated, but Henryk remained silent.

"Tell them, tell them what you did to Marrinette. Tell them how you murdered her!"

"No!" Henryk snapped, his head turning away as he tried to shut them out. "Enough of this... you know what..."

"Tell them!" House Venus demanded, and Henryk closed his eyes, clutching his head in his hands.

"Do you remember, Henryk?" Jace spoke calmly, overriding the chaos with malicious intent. Henryk slammed his eyes shut, and horrifying images flooded his mind's eye. A young woman with purple eyes, her jet-black hair cascading in curls as she waded...

"Do you remember how you murdered my little sister?"