In the fractured orbit of Gaia, the warship Xenith's Lance had become more than a command hub. It was now a laboratory, a temple, and a crypt for all that the war between Gaia and the Charym'Zul threatened to erase.
The relics—once cryptic fragments buried in the forgotten pockets of spacetime—had begun to reveal their purpose. After weeks of sleepless experiments, Dr. Arken's team unlocked a truth older than Gaia itself: the relics were codified memories of forgotten gods. Not tools, but thoughts. Not weapons, but possibilities.
They were interfaces to what was left behind after cosmic intelligences departed their lower shells—containers of will and function. When attuned to a human with the right resonance signature, they could rewrite localized reality.
"Relic Synthesis Protocol Alpha complete," chimed the AI system Helios. "Dr. Arken, subject Neria has bonded with Relic Ashfall. Neural stability: 91%."
Neria, clad in an alloy-mesh battleframe, blinked through the interface of her mind. The relic sat like a second consciousness beside her thoughts, calm and ancient.
"What do you feel?" Lys asked from behind the glass of the control chamber.
"It doesn't want destruction," Neria said. "It wants to see us rise. But we have to earn it."
---
The relics weren't singular in form. They manifested differently to each bearer, revealing facets of themselves through trials. One relic became a cloak of starlight, another a sentient swarm of metallic dust, another a gravity-bending gauntlet.
The war effort pivoted overnight. With relic-powered operatives now in command of new strategies, the humans turned the mineral-laden moons of Sector Cal-4 into orbiting forges. The Forge Singularity Project was born, where dimensional energy was refined into weaponry powered not by combustion, but by belief.
Each relic demanded more than just control. It required purpose. The stronger the conviction of the user, the more power it yielded.
---
Kharz'Vora - Chamber of Echoing Wounds
Vyrrith-Kal was not blind to the change.
"They have awakened the tools of the gods," he hissed, watching through stolen sensor feeds.
"Shall we devour their relic-bearers, my lord?" asked Kreel'thuz, his war-clerk.
"No. Let them grow. Let them believe they can win. And then... we take everything."
But even as the Charym'Zul prepared their next harvest, strange anomalies began to appear in their deepest burrows. Echoes of relics not meant for them. Some relics resisted the hunger of the hollow-born.
---
Flashback - Earth, Year 7261
A boy named Taron, future commander and bearer of Relic Ignis Spira, had once been a street orphan in New Singapore. He had watched his sister die during a resource riot. No gods came. No aliens saved her.
But in the ruins, he found a relic shard buried in concrete, humming faintly. It burned his skin but whispered his name.
He survived, rose through EarthGuard, and never stopped hearing the voice of the flame.
Now, Taron stood aboard Xenith's Lance, watching his own soldiers train with relics.
"They say the gods won't interfere anymore," he muttered to Lys. "But I wonder... what if they're just watching for now?"
Lys replied, "Then we put on a damn good show."
---
The war had changed.
Relics fused with machine.Thought fused with metal. Faith became power. And Gaia's next move would not be a retreat.
It would be revelation.