After Solomon's successful boarding maneuver, he proceeded to capture the remaining ships still trapped within the gravity well, officially forming his own fleet. In a grand display, he publicly executed the casino tycoon in front of all the crew, then declared himself Fleet Commander. Each crew member was given a choice—join him, or be dropped onto the planet below to await rescue from passing ships.
No one chose the latter.
The casino tycoon's subordinates had always been cutthroats and outlaws. They had no loyalty to their former boss. Why die with him when they could follow a rising pirate star instead? Anyone would make that trade.
Merlin greatly admired Solomon's methods, providing detailed commentary on the tactics and strategies employed. After all, Merlin had once been Arthurian Britain's chief strategist and military advisor. If Dave proved worthy in the future, he would take on the same role once again. Regarding Solomon's assault, Merlin spared no praise, calling it a textbook case of how a small force of interstellar pirates could defeat a superior enemy.
This fleet was Solomon's testing ground.
Under the constant threat of death, these pirates became his perfect test subjects, allowing him to experiment with his envisioned combat doctrines and training techniques. His organizational efficiency far surpassed that of the lax and disorderly Xandarians. During the long voyage, he even gave the pirates lectures—teaching them tactics, strategy, art, and culture.
His teaching tools?
A holographic projector—along with a sword and a whip.
Only fear and pain could force these unruly misfits to listen.
Beyond that, Solomon also orchestrated a large-scale augmentation procedure to enhance the pirates' combat capabilities. If these cowards had any real fighting prowess, they would have joined groups like the Ravagers long ago. He wouldn't have had the opportunity to recruit them.
With ruthless efficiency, Solomon centralized all supplies under the management of First Mate Alex.
He had the crew burn corpses, clean the ships, and repair damaged sections—keeping the newly recruited scoundrels occupied. Within days, the pirates divided into rigid hierarchies: warriors and engineers sat at the top, followed by logistics and damage control personnel, with slaves at the very bottom.
Solomon ruled his fleet as an absolute dictator.
Adrift in the vastness of space, this isolated fleet had become its own microcosm—a self-contained society, where his unique blend of culture and governance took root with startling ease.
Every pirate who underwent surgery, training, and magical augmentation felt themselves fundamentally changed. They had a purpose now.
Their loyalty to Solomon deepened into something bordering on fanaticism.
None more so than First Mate Alex.
Once a fugitive from the rigid caste system of Hala, the Kree homeworld, Alex now wholeheartedly embraced Solomon's brutal rule.
Of course, there were minor rebellions along the way.
But nothing Solomon's magic couldn't handle.
He was well aware of the psychological transformation happening among his crew.
He simply chose to say nothing.
Only Dave, who had never truly witnessed the dark side of society, found it difficult to accept.
To him, slavery was utterly immoral, and feudal autocracy was the hallmark of a primitive and uncivilized society.
Yet, no one paid him any mind.
Even Merlin let him wander the ship aimlessly.
Solomon's last words to Dave carried immense weight. If he remained naïve, he was unfit to be the Swordbearer.
In truth, Merlin had originally planned to find a more suitable candidate from the En-Galle wizarding order to serve as Solomon's aide. If not for Dave's remarkable talent and rapid progress, Merlin wouldn't have considered him at all.
What Dave needed was a harsh reality check.
And Merlin had prepared a trial for him—one far more brutal than anything he had ever faced.
Wanda rapped her knuckles against the wall, listening as the sound echoed dully off the mold-streaked tiles.
Since Solomon's departure, she had not seen her brother apart from routine inspections.
She had yet to master the Transfiguration or Portal spells Solomon had mentioned, meaning she couldn't simply teleport Pietro from his neighboring cell.
However, she could still reach him through telepathic communication.
Using the mystical techniques Solomon had taught her, she trained herself in emotional suppression—maintaining a state of focused discipline known as "concentration," the foundation of spellcasting.
It was an inward journey, aligned with the Hermetic-Kabbalistic system.
Though Wanda had yet to fully grasp its depths, Solomon had granted her a symbolic token: the Red Rose and Golden Cross Badge, a mark of encouragement rather than achievement.
She would only be permitted to wear it upon completing her training—when she truly earned the recognition it symbolized.
For now, she immersed herself in Solomon's Enochian Language Course, memorizing the 49x49-character grid that formed the basis of the Enochian magical system, all while remaining wary of the number 333—forewarned as a demonic signifier.
Additionally, Solomon had left her with a copy of the Seven Chapters of the Arcane Sovereign.
This book was deep and foreboding—entirely different from The Witch's Prophecy and the handwritten Book of Atum that sat beside it.
The Witch's Prophecy (Völuspá) was the first and most famous poem in the Poetic Edda, in which a seeress recounted to Odin the creation, destruction, and rebirth of the world.
The Book of Atum foretold the eventual dissolution of the universe into primordial chaos.
But The Seven Chapters of the Arcane Sovereign…
It was terrifying.
A normal person would suffer a complete mental breakdown upon reading it.
Wanda had no intention of letting her brother see any of this.
He belonged to the light—his world was built on science.
Mathematics and physics shaped his understanding.
Pietro's thirst for knowledge lay in science, not supernatural power.
These tainted teachings were not for him.
They were for her.
Closing her eyes, Wanda sank deeper into her consciousness.
Focus. Focus. Focus.
This is the foundation of magic.
If you cannot suppress your instincts, then remember—concentration is everything. If you study black magic, this is even more critical.
Remember this: Your mind belongs to you. Never forget it.
She recalled every word Solomon had spoken to her.
And she obeyed.
When the sorcerer realized he could not purge Wanda of her innate nature, he altered his teaching methods.
She had learned much from him—secrets long buried beneath the ocean, the sunken Holy City of R'lyeh, the Eye Tyrants, Set, and the ancient war waged by the Earth Mother, Gaea.
She had also learned of the origins of many gods.
These were priceless histories in the magical world.
Men had killed for such knowledge.
But Wanda did not yet grasp the true value of the wisdom Solomon had bestowed upon her.
She simply devoured it, as she always had—hungry for more.
And yet…
For reasons she could not explain, she found her talent in black magic terrifyingly natural.
She struggled to grasp the Invocation techniques Solomon had taught her.
But dark magic?
She remembered it all effortlessly.
Still, she resisted the temptation to cast spells recklessly.
She exercised patience.
She kept studying.
Unseen in her pocket, the Red Rose and Golden Cross Badge emitted a faint glow.
For a fleeting moment, Wanda remembered the golden giant from her dreams.
And the feathered tree coiled by a serpent.
The ever-present whispers that had once circled her mind…
Vanished.
She sank deeper into enumeration.
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