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"That was tough." For some reason, the coyote's voice sounded a bit like an angel's.

I blinked, confirming that I was still alive. The seat was in its normal position, so I unbuckled the safety belt and stood up, trying to shake off the numbness in my legs.

Ian had already sat up, reading messages on the terminal while typing out replies. The large yellow dog had a deep frown, and his cheeks would twitch occasionally.

Not wanting to disturb him, I turned my attention to the window, hoping to get a better sense of the current situation.

The Shield of German was unleashing a continuous barrage of ammunition, creating a dense web of fire to intercept any drones attempting to breach the perimeter while covering the retreat of other small vessels from the combat zone.

I think I might understand why the Shield of German was designed with enough firepower to intercept the entire drone fleet of the Empire's Heart — the Admiral knew this day would come.

But even from this distance, I could see that the guns of the cruiser group and the sentinels’ turrets were glowing red from overheating. They wouldn't be able to maintain this rate of fire for long. The point defense system’s high-energy lasers probably weren't the best choice against such highly agile and swift targets.

I hoped that, as the fighter craft withdrew, the Admiral could focus solely on the battle without needing to divide attention to protect others.

Speaking of which, what's going on with the other Empire's Heart?

"This is the true face of the Phantom..." Ian said in a low voice, having come to my side at some point, watching the battlefield with me. "A reflection of ourselves."

Seeing these two metal storms violently collide, I could somewhat grasp Ian's meaning. Even though our understanding of the universe constantly tells us that this should be impossible. But when the impossible is placed right in front of you, you kind of have to trust your eyes if you don’t want to lose your mind.

"But what is really going on?" I voiced my confusion. It was more of a release than an actual question—I seriously doubted anyone could answer me. "Why are two Empire's Heart fighting each other?"

"No idea," said an aardwolf, whom I vaguely remembered seeing a few times in the mess hall. "The other ship just suddenly appeared." He scratched his arm, which had dark stripes on it, looking uncomfortable. "Unless there's some kind of technology that can completely cloak something, hiding all radiation signals, that Phantom mothership really did just materialize out of nowhere."

"As strange as it is that something could just appear, I find it even more bizarre that there's another Empire's Heart," José joined us, looking out the viewport. "I thought the Empire's Heart was supposed to be one of a kind."

"It is. The Empire's Heart is unique," Ian said in a somewhat detached tone, as if he'd forgotten where he was. "Both of those ships... are Empire's Heart."

I figured this might be delving into metaphysical territory, so I didn’t ask further. I just kept watching the intense, deadlocked battle.

I didn’t activate my own terminal, certain that even with the help of a tactical simulation map, I wouldn’t be able to make any sense of this chaotic situation with billions of fast-moving drones. But Ian occasionally glanced down to check the status, as if he really could comprehend this madness.

"Feels strange, doesn’t it?" Hudson’s voice crackled through the comms again. I leaned forward to peek into the cockpit but could only see his patchy-furred hand—I wasn’t sure what species he was. "Except for the cruiser group, everyone’s been ordered not to engage, including the fighter craft that managed to retreat." I could hear the frustration in his tone, leading me to conclude he really wanted to dive back into that storm. "So… we’ll just stand by."

I noticed a few other small crafts were idling near the sentinel positions of the Shield of German, itching to take action. While the Empire's Heart fleet wasn't exactly known for its discipline, I doubted anyone would openly defy a direct order. Eventually, all of the Empire’s Heart fighter craft exited the battle zone, and even the reluctant small vessels pulled back to a safe distance.

For the rest of the time, we all stared at the Empire's Heart and its duplicate.

The two ships were virtually identical, and honestly, I couldn't tell which drones were ours and which were the enemy’s. At least the cruiser group could tell the difference, which was what mattered.

But who exactly was the Admiral fighting? It was said that with the Empire's Heart fleet under his control, he had the power to annihilate any major political faction in the sol. If the Phantom’s Empire’s Heart was just as powerful, should we be worried that one day these incomprehensible forces will no longer be content with lurking at the edge of the sol? Speaking of which, we were still quite far from the system’s edge—why had we encountered the Phantom here?

I felt like an ant watching two giants clash for reasons far beyond my comprehension. Avoiding being crushed was already a blessing—I didn’t have even the slightest illusion that I could be of any help. I couldn’t decide whether to admire or pity those who actually wanted to charge into the combat zone.

Even so, I was worried about Luther, and even about the Admiral. If Luther was also a psychic, did he have the power to handle this kind of situation? Perhaps that fleeting glimpse of him had given me the answer. As for the Admiral, it was said he had nearly died in the Battle of Midway, and the White Wolf had been in a coma for over ten days after igniting the reactor of the Empire’s Heart. And now, this battle was likely just as intense as Midway.

An ant worrying about giants might seem foolish, but...

I sighed, accepting my place, and continued to watch the battlefield, even though it was of no help.

The sentinels finally overheated and ceased functioning, but fortunately, the drone swarm’s combat range hadn’t expanded further. Although the drones occasionally surged forward like they were being compressed, they quickly pulled back to roughly their original positions. It seemed that with fewer targets to protect, the Admiral could now fully focus on the battle.

Suddenly, it was as if I could discern a pattern in the chaos before me.

It was like a blizzard.

Each drone was a swirling snowflake, coalescing into larger ice crystals or breaking apart and scattering, but countless tiny units still pulsed to the same rhythm, ultimately cascading down with overwhelming force, burying everything in an endless field of white.

And just as suddenly as it had begun, the battle ended.

All the drones halted, slowly spinning in place or drifting along their inertial paths.

There was no sound, making the scene even eerier, as if we were staring at the corpse of some gigantic creature.

But the cheers that erupted around me shattered the eerie silence. I could hear similar sentiments coming from other people's terminals—relief, gratitude for survival.

It was only then that I noticed the other Empire's Heart was retreating. All the drones were retracting, reattaching themselves to the hull and becoming part of the armor again. Except for a few near the bow, which were circling rapidly at fixed distances, as if being cut from the fabric of reality. Then, a wormhole opened.

It wasn’t until the duplicate passed through the wormhole and the rift closed that I truly felt a sense of relief that it was over. Compared to others, who were expressing their emotions with various forms of excitement, I was left feeling a numb exhaustion, almost like I was about to collapse. It was probably just the aftermath of adrenaline spiking for too long, nothing too serious.

Amid the noisy crowd, I noticed the coyote beside me was unusually quiet. At a time like this, shouldn’t he be unable to resist showing off his deeply ingrained flamboyance?

I glanced at José from the corner of my eye. The coyote was staring seriously out the viewport at the drifting debris.

At first, I didn’t understand why José was so heavy-hearted. Yes, I saw a few bodies floating—comrades’ sacrifices are never easy—but after surviving a battle of this magnitude, the fact that most of us were still alive was a miracle of miracles. A little post-battle release was perfectly acceptable.

But soon, I understood.

The realization hit me like a sharp needle piercing behind my ear, making me involuntarily tense, clenching my fists and gritting my teeth.

No...

The noise around us began to quiet, likely because more people were noticing and understanding what this meant.

Finally, someone broke the silence, voicing the question that had been hanging over us all.

"Why... hasn't the Empire's Heart recovered its drones?"

A month had passed since the Admiral's funeral.

The death of one of the Nine Archdukes, the Admiral of the Empire’s Heart fleet, should have been major headline news. But soon after the Admiral’s will was made public, the explosive content came into the public eye, and the conversation on the surface abruptly shifted, as though everyone suddenly accepted that the Admiral was dead. Instead, the focus turned to the future of the German House, the Empire as a whole, the movements of other political factions, and on Luther himself.

I couldn’t care less what the tabloids or the various political groups across the sol were plotting. All I knew was that my friend needed me.

Apparently, Luther had used some highly persuasive means to silence anyone who questioned his qualifications. So now was not the time to waste attention on those insignificant players.

The panel on the Admiral's quarters door was lit red, signaling a request not to be disturbed. But I refused to let that stop me. I pulled out my terminal, determined to show my true skill this time and try my hardest to break through the Empire’s Heart defense system.

But before I could even begin, a message appeared on the terminal, making my body freeze. I glanced around the empty corridor to ensure I wasn’t being followed.

“Just this once.”

I didn’t have time to ponder what it meant or who sent it because the sliding door to the quarters opened. Shaking my head forcefully, I decided to leave this small mystery for later.

“Hey, everything going okay?” I announced my arrival, though I figured Luther had already sensed me. After the incident at the palace, Ian had shared with us in detail what he knew about psychics.

“Abel.” Luther greeted me weakly, not even lifting his head.

The mutt was curled up in the Admiral’s high-backed chair, his snout buried between his knees, hugging his legs and shrinking into himself, clearly trying to wrap himself up in that bright red coat.

The sight was heartbreaking.

I noticed that the shoulder insignia on the coat were missing rank markings. During the emergency crew meeting earlier, it was mentioned that the Captain, Arthur, would temporarily assume the Admiral’s position until Luther gained enough experience to take over command.

From a fleet hierarchy perspective, it was a reasonable decision. But again, I didn’t really care about those details either.

Sitting in the chair opposite Luther, I noticed something else. I sniffed the air and confirmed that the white mug sitting in front of him contained a dark brown liquid—coffee.

It had gone cold.

“He always complained about how I could never get the grind size just right,” Luther explained, and only then did I realize that the fragments floating above the desk were pieces of coffee beans, ranging in size from powdery to visibly coarse. “I really tried my best!” All the brown particles fell onto the white table, making a soft rustling sound. “And now, I’ll never know what the right grind size was.”

I scanned the quarters—garbage half-stuck in the waste bin, a blanket corner left unmade, a cracked glass pot in the sink. The place could just barely pass as acceptable, which only highlighted how badly off the mutt was.

My gaze returned to the white table scattered with coffee grounds, and then to the mutt sitting behind it. Somehow, a memory resurfaced of Luther, in the mess hall, spooning that weird pink sludge into his mouth one bite at a time.

“You mentioned before that you barely remember anything about the Admiral, right?” I spoke softly, careful not to upset Luther.

After the battle with the Omega-class Phantom and the confirmation of the Admiral’s death, an investigation team from German House boarded the Empire’s Heart.

Given his troubled history and the fact that he was reportedly found sobbing uncontrollably over the Admiral’s body, the mutt naturally became the prime suspect.

I don’t know what truth the investigation ultimately uncovered, but rumors circulated that Luther might have experienced some kind of accident that affected his memory.

Once the chaos settled and Luther was allowed to speak publicly, he confirmed with us that he hardly remembered anything about the Admiral—more precisely, fragments of their time together. Official documents and other records remained intact, though.

The investigation team concluded that Luther’s memory loss was genuine, but the medical team was utterly at a loss. Some people whispered privately that the Phantom had caused the damage.

Whatever the case, I only felt that this was all too cruel.

“Yes.” After a long pause, Luther finally responded, curling up even smaller.

“In that case, I’d like to share some things I know, about the Admiral...” I tasted a faint bitterness on my tongue. “...about Richter, the Wolf.”

It felt a bit strange. I was immensely grateful for everything the Admiral had done for me—he was a good person—but truthfully, we weren’t that close. The Admiral kept everyone at a very safe distance, so getting to know him deeply was impossible, and naturally, no profound connections were ever formed.

It was like being separated by something invisible.

But regardless of how I felt, whether it was guilt toward my savior or a sense of shared suffering with Luther, I believed more people should remember—more people should know this story.

“Aren’t you curious where we went on the first day of landing ceremony?” I said with a bit of a smile, though I didn’t want to sound too casual, as if I were boasting about some secret I shared with the Admiral.

“He said if you were willing, you’d tell me.” Luther lifted his rostrum from between his knees, looking at me with bloodshot brown eyes.

That was exactly the kind of thing the Admiral would say...

“Well, if you don’t mind, I think I can tell you about a little adventure of mine,” I said slowly, leaning back in my chair, trying to get comfortable—it was going to take a while.

Luther nodded, at least looking a bit less despondent.

“As you can see, I was originally a serf.” I took a deep breath and traced a finger over the bare ring of skin around my neck where no hair grew. “And I would have remained one forever, except I met someone who changed my fate…”

And so, I began to tell my story.