Ebony Zone,
Ironspire, Mount Obsidian
Agartha, Divine Federation
Anu Solar System
Pleiades star sector
20th Krios cycle, Solaris prime Solaris Prime
ChatGPT said:
Rex sat in the dimly lit chamber, his gaze fixed on his father, whose refusal to meet his eyes remained as constant as the passing days. The man was encased in a sealing jacket, a cursed thing designed to restrain him in every conceivable way, rendering his body a prison as much as his mind. It was always the same when Rex came to visit—his father, once so formidable, would deliberately avoid his eyes, like a silent protest against his very presence. And Rex, caught between the weight of unspoken words and unresolved feelings, would wait in silence, a patient yet sorrowful observer. Eventually, his father would relent and glance up at him—reluctantly, almost as if the act itself were too much of a burden.
In the beginning, Rex had been consumed by a whirlwind of emotions—guilt, shame, and the kind of self-loathing that can only stem from doubting a father's love. But with time, he had come to understand that the fault did not lie with him. How could it? Rex had never truly known his father. When he was only four years old, Alexander had vanished from his life without explanation, leaving Rex to be raised by the Haravok family. And when his father finally returned, it was as the Fallen One, imprisoned by the weight of his own choices and actions. To Rex, it had always seemed as if his father had left him for dead—had killed Jonathan Haravok, the man who had raised him and shown him what a father's love could be.
But Rex's eyes had since been opened to the truth. It had taken years, but he had learned the details of that tragic day, the day his father had fallen from grace. And if it hadn't been for his position as a Hunting Dog, a position granted by the Admiral, Rex would never have been afforded this rare and fleeting privilege of seeing his father. A once-in-a-decade visitation.
And now, as he watched Alexander finally raise his head and meet his gaze, Rex could feel the weight of the moment settle between them like a heavy fog. His father's eyes were still cold, distant, as if he had already resigned himself to whatever fate awaited him. It was the indifference that hurt the most—more than the years of absence, more than the emotional distance. It was the knowledge that no matter how much Rex wished to bridge the chasm between them, Alexander had already made peace with his isolation.
Rex cleared his throat, forcing himself to focus, to hold onto the thread of their conversation. "So, in a few weeks' time, the trial will start," he said, his voice tinged with determination. "Then we can finally clear your name."
For a long moment, Alexander didn't respond. His gaze never wavered, but Rex could see the smallest shift in his father's expression. It was as if the words had hit him like a stone, stirring up memories and regrets long buried. But, as expected, it was his father who spoke first, and the question that left his lips was not about the trial or even the path to redemption—it was a question about Rex's own journey.
"How is your cultivation?" Alexander asked, his voice rough, distant, but not without some glimmer of curiosity.
Rex's throat tightened. He had been ready for the question, but it still stung. "Father…" he began, his voice catching, but then he hesitated. There was no emotion in Alexander's eyes—only that same hollow indifference. It was clear now. His father wasn't interested in the trial. He wasn't interested in the future or his name being cleared. That mattered little to him. The truth of what had happened on that fateful day—the day that had changed everything—remained a mystery, locked behind his father's silence.
"I'm in Tier Six of the Sage Realm," Rex answered, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging inside him.
"Tier Six," Alexander repeated, his voice carrying an edge of something Rex couldn't quite place. Disapproval? Pride? Regret? It was impossible to tell.
"Did you do as the formula instructed?" Alexander's voice softened, becoming more focused. The formula—the Seven-Headed Dragon Dance cultivation technique of the Pendragon family—was a sacred and ancient practice. Rex had been granted it when he ascended to the Master Realm years ago, and it came with one crucial instruction: to break through to the Harmonization stage in the body of a living star. These stars were rare, sentient beings, celestial wombs that carried the potential of gods within them. Rex had traveled to the distant reaches of Albion, near his ancestral planet, to find one such star. There, in seclusion, he had successfully completed the breakthrough.
Alexander's gaze sharpened, as if now truly seeing his son for the first time in years.
"Have you heard the call?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper.
Rex felt a chill run down his spine at the question. The call. The mysterious summons that echoed through the cosmos, a harbinger of something yet to come. It was a question that carried weight, a question that resonated with the unknown. Rex didn't know how to answer, but something deep within him stirred, as if the very air around them had shifted.
"I have," Rex said quietly, his voice barely audible, but resolute.
The room fell silent again, the two of them suspended in a moment that felt like it might stretch on forever.
"Then why didn't you answer the call?" Alexander's voice cracked, heavy with a weight Rex hadn't anticipated. His father's words were blunt, cutting through the tension like a blade, sharp and unyielding.
Rex hesitated, his mind racing to find the right words. He couldn't bring himself to speak the truth, not in this moment, not with the trial looming so close, and not with his father so distant. "Father," he began slowly, his voice heavy with the burden of his words. "I felt like it would take me away to somewhere far from here." He clenched his fists, feeling the raw energy stirring within him, an overwhelming tide that he struggled to control. "I want to be here with you... while the trial is going on."
For the first time, Alexander's expression shifted, his lips parting as if to speak, but nothing came. His shoulders slumped, the weight of his own regrets pressing down on him like a mountain. The words that followed were as resigned as the man himself.
"I don't matter, Arexander," he called out, his voice low and rough, like the very marrow of his bones had been worn thin by time and sorrow. "I don't matter. You should focus on your own future—"
"No!" Rex's voice rang out, sharper than any sword could cut. His eyes flared crimson, the intensity of his emotions flaring like wildfire. The room seemed to tremble, the air growing heavy with the suffocating weight of his power. His body exuded a subtle, yet undeniable pressure—his mana threatening to burst free, colliding with the space around him as though it had a will of its own. The walls seemed to groan, and the floor beneath his feet cracked as if the very foundation of the room feared the force rising within him.
"No," Rex said again, his voice a fierce declaration, a roar of defiance that echoed with his heart's deepest truth. His gaze never wavered from his father, his stare now aflame with a deep, unyielding intensity. "I care about you, Father. I care." The words burned on his lips, desperate, pleading. "I know you want nothing to do with the trial. But this is it. I promised, didn't I? That I would restore the honor of our family."
His voice softened, trembling with the weight of his own revelation. Rex had always believed that his father's honor had been tarnished, that it had been stained by sins Rex couldn't even begin to comprehend. But as the years had passed, and the truth unraveled before him, Rex had learned more than he ever expected. The honor of the Pendragon family—his family—had never been lost. It had simply been obscured, hidden beneath the weight of betrayal and pain. But it was still there. And it was worth fighting for.
"That had always been what I wanted," Rex continued, his breath coming in steady gasps now, each word a struggle between the past and the present. "Even when I thought the worst of you... my goal was to restore our honor. To restore what I thought you had lost." His fists tightened once more, the tremor in his hands barely contained. "I joined Sector Zero, Father... for this. For a chance to free you. For the evidence. And now—now I've managed to get an appeal to overturn your sentence."
The weight of his confession hung in the air, thick and suffocating. It was as though the very room had exhaled a collective breath, holding its presence in anticipation. Alexander's eyes flickered—briefly, almost imperceptibly—before the mask of indifference settled once more. But Rex saw it. That fleeting moment of emotion, raw and untamed, before it vanished into the depths of his father's soul.
"Rex," Alexander rasped, his voice breaking on the very name he had given his son. "I do not care about myself. I only care for you... and—"
Before the words could finish, the door to the room creaked open, drawing Rex's attention. He spun around, his heart leaping into his throat, not knowing how anyone could have gained access. The security around his father was impenetrable—only those with the highest clearance could be near him, and even then, it was a rare occurrence.
And yet, standing there in the doorway, with an air of casual confidence, was Leon. Rex's eyes widened in disbelief, his breath catching in his throat. How had Leon—?
"What about me, Uncle Alex?" Leon's voice rang out, smooth and almost teasing, the familiar cadence of it cutting through the heavy atmosphere.
Alexander blinked in surprise. His eyes were momentarily wide, a flicker of recognition flashing across his face. For a split second, he thought he was seeing a ghost. He thought—no, felt—the presence of Jonathan, his blood brother, his companion through countless battles and struggles.
But the warmth of that memory was quickly crushed by the brutal, vivid flashback of the last time he had seen Jonathan—torn, bloodied, and broken beyond repair. The image haunted him, twisting his gut as he returned to reality. The shock of seeing Leon brought him back, grounding him in the present.
"Leon," Alexander whispered, his voice a hoarse croak. The name barely escaped his lips, heavy with emotion—an emotion that seemed to fight against the tide of despair that had consumed him for so long.
ChatGPT said:
"Yes, Uncle Alex," Leon said, his voice smooth, almost teasing, as he stepped further into the room. His eyes gleamed with a quiet confidence, the weight of his presence palpable as he faced the man who had once been a shadow in his memories.
Alexander's eyes narrowed, the faintest flicker of something—perhaps surprise—crossing his weathered face. "You... you've grown strong," he said, his tone almost distant, as if acknowledging something he hadn't expected.
"Why, thank you," Leon replied with a slight smile, his gaze unwavering. There was a calmness to his words, but the undertone carried a weight, a warning that he wasn't here to simply chat.
Rex, still standing off to the side, eyed the interaction with suspicion, a sense of discomfort building within him. "What are you doing here, Leon?" he asked, his voice tight. "You can't be here... it's not allowed..."
Leon waved off the concern with an almost dismissive gesture. "Oh, please. Let's not fuss over some silly rule," he said, a hint of mockery in his voice. "I've come here to seek the information I've always wanted to know."
Rex's eyes narrowed, his brow furrowing as his concern deepened. "What do you mean?" he asked, stepping closer. Alexander remained silent, but the weight of his presence in the room shifted, a silent acknowledgment of Leon's power. Although Rex couldn't sense the exact depth of Leon's cultivation, he could feel the intensity of it.
Leon's gaze drifted back to Alexander, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. "About the Uprising," he said, his words cutting through the thick air like a blade. "There's so much about it that doesn't make sense to me. From what I've investigated, you weren't around when the Fallen Stars began their activist protests. Starlight's mission log says you were MIA during that time. You were presumed dead. That's why Rex came to live with us. So how did you end up as the leader of Fallen Star?"
Rex stiffened, his heart sinking as Leon's words echoed in the room. His father had never spoken of this—never mentioned his role in the Uprising, and now Leon was pulling at threads Rex hadn't even dared to follow.
"I've met Sophia Sinclair," Leon continued, his voice growing sharper, his gaze never wavering from Alexander. "And from what I gathered, the Fallen Stars seemed more like her thing. So how did you end up in charge, leading a squad to steal the Twilight Crown from the Council chamber after it was bombed?"
There was a silence, thick and heavy. Alexander didn't respond immediately, and Leon watched him, eyes narrowed, sensing the walls closing in. Alexander remained as still as a statue, his features unreadable. Leon's lips curled into a slight smile, sensing his victory. "Won't say anything, huh?"
"Leon, now isn't the time—" Rex started, his voice tight with urgency.
But Leon raised a finger to silence him. "I know why you won't speak," he said, his voice steady but carrying a weight of certainty that made the room feel colder. "You're in league with either my mother or Vuelo... or maybe it's both of them. Vuelo is connected to Sophia Sinclair, and something about her association always makes me think of my mother, Yesh, and Terra. All these things lead me to one conclusion: the Uprising was important for their goals."
Leon paused for a moment, his eyes reflecting a deeper understanding, a knowledge that stretched far beyond the surface of the words he was saying. "Vuelo's a seer, isn't she? She calculates the flow of causality. A woman with her power should have seen that Sector Zero would try to frame the Fallen Star group—a group of innocent Pleiadians fighting for the rights of the unfortunate. My mother knew. She probably told my father, or maybe she didn't. I don't know. There's so much that doesn't make sense."
Rex's hands clenched into fists, his breath coming in shallow gasps. This was beyond what he had expected to hear, beyond what he'd ever imagined about his family. Leon was digging into things no one should have.
"And I know you can't say anything," Leon continued, his voice softening, almost as if in sympathy. "But don't worry, Uncle Alex. You don't have to say anything. Just relax."
With that, Leon's eyes gleamed with a cold, purposeful energy. His aura flared as he called upon his Hyperion abilities, the indigo core thrumming with power as his focus sharpened.
[Hyperion – Indigo Core Technique: Mindstep – Astralis Descent]
The technique flowed through him like liquid fire. It was a technique he had used before, on Delacroix, but now it was different. There was no hesitation, no fear of backlash. Leon's mind sharpened as he gently pressed against Alexander's consciousness, slipping into the memories of the man before him. It wasn't difficult this time. Alexander's thoughts, his entire life's history, came to him in waves, an overwhelming tide of information that Leon drank in, his mind absorbing it all with the sharpness of a blade slicing through flesh.
Memories flickered before him—thoughts, emotions, decisions. The moment that had changed Alexander—the choice to join the Fallen Star. Leon watched it all unfold, the complex layers of emotion and events that had led to this moment. He was getting close, getting to the part he wanted to see. But just as he neared the heart of the truth, he hit a wall.
A wall made of the very energy Leon was using—the Indigo energy.
Leon felt it pulse against him, a barrier he couldn't penetrate. He tried to push forward, but the wall pushed back harder, forcing him out. His consciousness was suddenly ripped from Alexander's memories, sent crashing back into his own body.
The sharp pain of exertion surged through him as Leon stumbled, spitting blood onto the floor. The backlash from overusing his ability factor in a place where it wasn't meant to be used left him weak, dizzy, his head spinning. He gripped the sides of his chair, trying to steady himself, but the world felt off-kilter.
"Leon... are you okay?" Rex asked, his voice filled with concern. He looked pale, his face drawn tight with worry, a stark contrast to the composed man who had entered moments before.
"It seems you've truly grown, Leon," Alexander said, his voice quiet but laced with something akin to respect. "I suspect you're around Sage realm or Saint realm. You've even unlocked some of Hyperion's unique skills." He gave a low, thoughtful hum. "Hmm. It looks like your generation is quite different from mine."
Leon said nothing, still trying to steady himself, his mind racing with the pieces he had gathered. The wall... it had been there for a reason. His mother had placed it there, and now, he had a new question to ask himself. What the hell are you playing at, Mother?
Leon's thoughts turned dark as the truth eluded him. The wall, the connection to his Indigo core, and the shadow of his mother's influence—they were all tied together. But what did it all mean?