The credit transfer completed with a quiet chime. No fanfare, no ceremony. Just a flicker of numbers vanishing into the void of the black net.
The remaining 2 million credits owed. Sent. Gone.
Ethan leaned back in his seat, watching the data dissolve on the terminal as Iris severed all traces of their connection. Not a byte was left dangling.
"Connection scrubbed. No residual pathways remain," Iris confirmed, her tone clinical, precise. "There is zero probability of backtrace, even for Specter Coil."
Ethan nodded slightly. Havik Drayn's identity, the mask he'd worn for this particular deal, was burned. A throwaway tool, like the one used at the auction. But the real reward wasn't the intel. It was clarity.
He finally knew who had been tracking him.
Specter Coil. A name whispered in back channels, feared in even the deepest layers of the Federation's underworld. An enigma, but no longer a mystery.
He wasn't naïve enough to think he could challenge them, not yet. But that didn't mean he would crawl under a rock and wait for their next move.
They wanted him wary. On edge. Let them watch.
He'd make sure they saw a man moving forward anyway.
"Iris," he said, gaze fixed on the growing glow ahead. "Let's prep for jump."
The Wraith hummed, her frame adjusting to the interstellar strain as Iris initiated the FTL pre-sequence. Power rerouted through the drive conduits, shields adjusted, and artificial gravity stabilized. The ship trembled, not with fear, but with anticipation.
Outside the viewport, starlight began to melt. Points of brilliance stretched into pale blurs, pulled thin by the calibration of the jump window. Ethan stared into the distortion, quiet, focused.
This was it. The last deep stretch through Haltris.
They were an hour into transit when Ethan wandered back into the cockpit. Iris had dimmed the lights, bathing the console in a low cyan glow. On the main display, a thin line traced their path across four galactic sectors: Aldaron. Beltrax. Enover. Haltris.
Each sector a tangle of scars and steps. Each stop, another layer burned into him.
He sat down, letting the hum of the drive bleed into his bones. His eyes drifted over flickering logs, charts, hyperspace telemetry, old comms.
"Iris," he said quietly, "how long has it been since we left Kynara and the Ashen Sector?"
"One hundred sixty standard days. Just under six months," she replied.
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
Five months. Since the dust storms and jagged cliffs of Kynara. Since the first time he took off with the Wraith under his own control.
There had been fights. Close calls. But there had also been new meetings like Caro Vaan and Trask Molten.
They were part of the journey too.
This test in Caryth wasn't just about a promotion. It was a milestone. A line in the sand.
Earning his place, officially. Leaving behind the last pieces of a life that no longer mattered.
Still, excitement battled fatigue in his chest. His body was tired, but his spirit... it burned. Quietly. Like coals before the spark.
"Approaching final relay. Helios-9," Iris announced.
Ethan straightened, eyes narrowing as the main display flared to life.
And there it was.
Helios-9.
Not just a gate, the gate. A colossus suspended in the void like a god's seal, dwarfing every relay they'd passed before. Ringed with radiant, shifting blue latticework, the relay's core structure pulsed with containment energy strong enough to bend the edges of light. Five segmented arms arced outward like claws around the warp corridor, each bristling with sensor arrays and autonomous defense batteries.
Compared to the first four relays, this one looked even more ike a fortress built by a civilization that had prepared for the end of the galaxy.
"Transmission uplink established. Federation I.D. beacon active," Iris continued. "Relaying encrypted credentials now."
As the Wraith eased closer, the true scale of the Federation's presence came into view. A titanic battleship, nearly half the size of a moon, loomed behind the relay. Its hull dark and jagged, bristling with plasma arrays and torpedo banks. Thousands of smaller ships flanked it in formation: frigates, destroyers, corvettes, and an entire carrier group.
Drones zipped between formations like sparks of silver, their scanning beams crossing in rigid patterns.
"Looks like a whole damn fleet," Ethan muttered, half to himself.
"They are monitoring twenty-three active entry lanes, with a priority focus on diplomatic and guild traffic," Iris replied. "Helios-9 has one of the highest security rating in the Federation."
Two rotating dreadnoughts patrolled the outer ring like orbiting executioners. Defense satellites were positioned in layered kill zones, covering every approach vector twice over. Turrets tracked the Wraith's every movement, their targeting lenses glowing faint red.
Nothing, absolutely nothing, got through Helios-9 without being noticed.
Ethan had read about this place. Everyone had.
Most only saw it in holos. Very few ever got close.
Only three sectors bore the title Core in the Orion Federation:
Caryth. Solmere. Talveth.
Power. History. Influence. The gravitational center of civilization in this side of the galaxy.
Caryth housed the Senate chambers, the Grand Halls of the Guild, Fleet Command, and countless other places whose names stirred both awe and caution.
Most citizens lived and died light-years away from it. And yet here he was.
He watched the access protocols flash across his screen, one after the other, green. Cleared. Accepted.
The Wraith had clearance.
Because of a single summons: C-Rank Mercenary Guild testing order.
One line of text. Enough to unlock a door no army could storm.
"FTL drop in thirty seconds," Iris said. "Engage inertial dampeners."
Ethan didn't respond immediately. His eyes were locked on the swirling gravity lens at the center of the relay, an eye of warped space, churning with endless kinetic tension.
It wasn't just a portal. It was a crucible. A gate not just to another sector, but to something deeper.
"Iris," he said slowly, "do you feel it?"
"Clarify."
"The eyes." He rubbed his neck, a shiver dancing up his spine. "We're being watched. Not just by the Federation."
"Specter Coil traces have not been detected."
"That doesn't mean they aren't watching. My instincts tell me that many eyes are on us." Ethan muttered.
He'd shaken them off in Mirth Vault, yes. But it wasn't over. He didn't think anything ever truly was with organizations like that.
Still... He was going through the gate.
The Wraith slowed. Space twisted, then snapped clean.
The silence after FTL was always striking.
Stars reassembled themselves around him. Caryth's primary systems flickered on the display, Veltraxis Prime, Fort Daran, Astrel Station...a map full of names he'd only ever read on his tablet.
For a moment, the ship said nothing. Neither did he.
Then, softly, he broke the stillness.
"Time to forge myself inside the fire once more."
Iris said nothing, but the engines answered, humming like a war drum.
Caryth awaited.