Kael stood in the strategic dome of the Oblivion Crown, surrounded by shimmering projections of a thousand sectors. The galaxy was splintered—warlords, trade syndicates, corrupted AI councils. Order had collapsed under the illusion of peace.
"Begin Operation: Shadowfire."
"Confirmed. Infiltration agents deployed to Aurelia, Zeta-Kronos, and Tyrian Loop."
The Tyrant Protocol began rerouting old loyalist sleeper cells—merchants, slaves, forgotten soldiers of the Black Nebula. All had been waiting for the codeword: "Ascendancy".
Suddenly—
"Distress beacon detected, Sovereign. From the Echelon-4 outpost."
Kael's brow tightened. That outpost shouldn't even be active.
"Trace it. If it's a trap, we spring it."
Meanwhile, in the slums of Tyrian Loop, a cloaked figure held an ancient insignia—Kael's royal crest. Eyes wide, he whispered:
"He's alive…"
And so, the embers of rebellion began to flicker.