Chapter 22 - Noviosk
I always knew this day would come. The day she’d find out who I really am.
I watch her, crumbling, wrecked by pain—and by what I kept from her. She trembles, unable to hold back her tears. And me? I just stand there, frozen, unable to take a single step toward her.
On the verge of regaining everything—my throne, my name, my power—I should feel something like satisfaction. But no. None of that. Just a weight. An itch. Her pain unsettles me. Because I know I caused it.
By the Stars… where did I screw this up?
Not when I let her brother be executed. Logan was a clear threat.
He was going to leak Vagantu’s coordinates to that damn Confederation.
And when he said he’d escape, I believed him.
There was no choice to make. Just a decision.
Cold. Necessary. Take him out. If I had to do it again, I would. No hesitation.
Not when I hid who I was. How would she have reacted if she'd known, from the beginning, that she’d rescued the former master of Vagantu? Her old jailer? She would’ve let me rot—and I wouldn’t have blamed her.
No… my mistake was thinking, for even a second, that I could be someone else with her. That her attachment to me meant something. That we could actually have something real. Maybe even let it become something more.
I’m Noviosk. And in this world, you survive through strength—or you disappear. Attachment is weakness.
I want everything back. My name. My authority. My empire. My place in the Eastern Quadrant. And to get there, I have to become who I was. Cold. Calculating. Unforgiving.
Sam… she was a detour. A brief light in the darkness. She healed me, protected me when I was just a broken shadow of myself. And for that, I’m grateful. Truly.
But gratitude has no place in my world.
She’s hurting because of me. And I can’t fix that. That’s just how it is.
I need to focus. Rebuild. Prepare.
Eight days. That’s all I’ve got. Eight days to become the deadly Srebat I used to be. To bury pain, doubt, memories.
Eight days to become Noviosk again, the ruthless master of Vagantu.
The hangar they’ve locked us in is massive, cold, impersonal. Probably an old freight depot. The walls shudder sometimes from nearby ship engines, but in here, it’s mostly silence.
Every morning, Sam leaves without a word. She walks across the hangar like a ghost, not even looking at me, and meets the two guards who escort her down the hall to the greenhouses and the lab.
There, she works on Zebulon. The drug they want more potent, more effective, more profitable. A guard let slip that they’ve even set up hydroponic grow modules to cultivate the base plant. Everything is streamlined. Controlled. And she’s trapped right in the middle of it.
While she’s gone, I train.
My leg screams with every move. A constant burn. But I grit my teeth. I strike. I fall. I get back up. Again. And again. Now only six days remain. Six days to turn this wreck of a body back into a lethal weapon. To become Noviosk again.
Evenings, she comes back.
We pass each other. We ignore each other. Two shadows in the same cage. Two strangers bound by a past we can’t erase, and a present we no longer know how to share.
Guards bring our food. Lukewarm, bland rations dumped on the floor. We eat in silence, separate. No words. No glances. Just the clink of spoons in metal bowls and the distant hum of the ventilation systems.
Then, like every night, we crawl into our sleep capsules—individual modules lined up like pods in a metallic beehive. Bigger than coffins, longer, higher. Feet-first entry. An inner shutter blocks out the hangar.
She slides into hers. I slide into mine, far from hers. The air is heavy with everything we don’t say.
Still, I wait.
Because I know her. Sam shines. Even in the dark, she finds sparks. She stumbles, she aches… but she’s not broken. Not by me. At least, I hope not. She just needs time to recover from all this.
But that afternoon, everything shifts.
I’m stretching after my session when I hear a noise. A muffled yell. I freeze. It’s coming from the corridor. A Human guard, pissed off, drags her back into the hangar, gripping her hard by the arm. She struggles, furious. He shoves her into the wall.
I limp over as fast as I can.
“She sabotaged multiple doses of Zebulon!” he snarls. “She needs a lesson.”
I don’t hesitate. I slam into him full force. He stumbles, shocked. We grapple. He’s younger, fitter—but I’m heavier, faster, more desperate. I smash him against the wall, panting.
“Touch her again, and I’ll rip your hand off,” I growl, lethal.
He sizes me up, hesitating, then backs off. Good. He’s not a complete idiot.
“I’ll report this to Danuk. Next time she pulls something, she’ll answer to him,” he snaps, storming off.
He spits on the ground and walks out of the hangar, leaving the two of us alone.
I turn toward her. She’s sitting against the wall, arms wrapped tightly around her knees.
She finally looks at me—and in her eyes, there’s no anger left. Just exhaustion. A deep, bone-deep weariness… and a fear she’s trying hard to hide.
“Is it true?” I ask, my voice rougher than I intended.
“You sabotaged the Zebulon?”
She stares at me, eyes glistening, and slowly nods.
“Just today’s batch, yes. Because I can’t stand helping them. This drug is a plague. We’re way beyond the mild relaxant I used to synthesize in my Gekkari lab. Zebulon here is fifty times more concentrated! Without strict monitoring, it’s potentially lethal!”
“That’s not your concern!” I snap. “"The only thing you should care about is staying alive.”
“They’re watching everything I do,” she says quietly. “Once the Zebulon formula is perfected, they won’t need me anymore. And when that happens… what do you think they’ll do? They’re not going to keep me around forever. You and I both know what that means. They’ll get rid of me.”
I don’t respond. We both know exactly what’ll happen to her once she’s no longer useful. She’ll be sold off to a slave market… just like the one I used to run not so long ago.
The thought makes my whole body recoil.
Right here, in this cold hangar, staring into her eyes, I make a promise: If I win in the arena—if I take back the throne I lost—she will never meet that fate.
I won’t let her vanish into the shadows like so many others.
Not her.
This promise doesn’t make sense. I know that.
The old Noviosk would’ve never made such a vow.
He would’ve seen her as a variable. A casualty. A potential asset. He would’ve calculated, weighed, and decided based on what best served his interests.
But I’m not entirely that man anymore.
Something’s changed.
Maybe it’s the fact that she saw me at my lowest—and didn’t leave me there, even though she could have.
Maybe it’s because she cared for me, expected nothing in return.
Maybe it’s because she looked at me like I was still alive. Like I was a friend—even human, somehow.
Or maybe it’s because, despite all my claims…
I don’t want to lose her.
Whatever the reason, if I’m going to be a lord again—
it will be by protecting her, not sacrificing her. Not if I can help it.
She’s gone back to her corner—far end of the hangar. Her back to me. As always.
Dinner should be brought in soon. I glance toward the small, cramped room they call the washroom, tucked away in a shadowy corner of the warehouse. I hesitate. I’d have enough time to go.
But a thought holds me back.
What if the guards show up while I’m gone?
What if she ends up alone, face-to-face with them?
I don’t like that idea.
So I stay where I am, motionless, caught between the need to clean up and the stronger, more pressing instinct to not leave her unprotected.
She’s not speaking to me anymore.
But that doesn’t mean I should stop watching over her.
Footsteps echo in the hallway. Heavier. More numerous than usual.
I straighten up, on alert. This isn’t the usual rhythm of the two guards who toss us our rations.
No—this time it’s different. More structured. Heavier.
The sliding doors hiss open. And they’re not carrying trays.
Several individuals enter, flanked by armed guards.
They’re cuffed, exhausted, each one marked by fear or resignation. That’s when it hits me.
The excessive number of sleep pods wasn’t some overcautious setup. It was planned from the start.
Nearly forty of them, lined up along the wall like empty honeycomb cells, were simply waiting for their occupants.
Future fighters. Future sacrifices.
I lock eyes with a trembling Neerot. He looks away immediately.
I feel Sam shift across the hangar. She’s stood up.
She’s watching. She understands too.
“Hey, you!” I call to the nearest guard.
Since my showdown with Danuk, my identity is no longer a secret. My name’s making the rounds. And even if I’m still weakened from my injuries, I’m a living legend. My reputation walks into every room before I do.
Few dare ignore me—fewer still to defy me.
This guard is no exception. He flinches slightly, turns, and approaches with a mix of caution and respect.
“Yes, Lord… uh, yes?” he stammers, caught between reflexive submission and fear of screwing up.
“All of these people… they’re future fighters for the arena?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“In that case, take the woman somewhere else. Somewhere quieter.”
He hesitates, glances toward Sam, then shakes his head.
“I… I can’t. That’s not what I was told. There’s nowhere else for her here. Normally only males are kept in this section. Females are sent to different quarters…”
He trails off. His gaze shifts, avoiding mine.
And I understand what he’s not saying.
I grit my teeth. On second thought, I’d rather she stay here. Under my watch.
Better that than whatever those ‘other quarters’ imply.
Still, the threat hanging over her is very real.
Most of the new arrivals look like they were forced into this. But some don’t.
Some wear that twitchy, eager look—desperate to prove themselves in the arena. Like predators scenting vulnerable prey, they’ve already picked out the weakest target.
Sam.
“Listen up!” I shout, my voice cracking through the hangar like a whip.
They freeze. They turn toward me.
“This woman’s name is Sam. She is under my protection. Anyone who lays a hand on her without her consent will answer to me. Is that clear?”
Some nod without making eye contact.
Three Humans, though, are staring her down with a predatory gleam. One of them—a bald-headed bastard—mutters something to the other two.
“I said—IS THAT CLEAR?” I bark louder.
“Yeah, yeah, we get it… You just wanna keep her for yourself, huh?” the bald one sneers. “But your little honeymoon’s over. There’s three of us now. You really think you can take us all at once?”
I stare at him, cold smile on my lips.
“Wanna bet?”
The air tightens. The bald one sizes me up, jaw clenched. His two buddies exchange a glance, uncertain now. Maybe they thought I’d back down.
Bad calculation.
I take a step forward.
“Go ahead. Try me. But know this—
the first one who moves, I break. And the other two will follow.”
Cueball chuckles, but it rings hollow.
“You’re bluffing.”
I don’t answer. I just hold his gaze… and slowly unsheathe my claws.
“Last warning,” I say, voice low and even.
“You touch her—you won’t live long enough to see the arena.”
Silence. Then, a step back. Baldy drops his eyes, mutters something I don’t bother decoding. His buddies follow, grudgingly.
I turn to Sam.
“You’ll be alright. Stay close to me.”
I guide her to her sleep pod—the one furthest from the others. A quiet corner, tucked away from prying eyes. She slips inside silently, still shaken. I stay where I am for a moment, scanning the area.
Then I decide to move. My original sleeping spot, across the hangar, won’t do anymore. The situation’s changed. She’s not safe here. So I take the pod right next to hers.
I prefer to stay within earshot. Just in case.
I settle into the pod beside hers, back against the wall, senses still alert despite the heavy quiet that’s settled over the hangar.
“Thanks,” she whispers.
Her voice is barely audible. I turn my head slightly toward her, though she can’t see me.
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“I do. You didn’t have to step in.”
I pause. “Maybe not. But I did it anyway.”
She lets out a small laugh, short and a little rough.
“You don’t exactly look like the protective type.”
“I’m not. Sleep now.”
A final silence falls. I assume she’s drifting off.
As for me—I stay awake, eyes open, on guard.
The calm has lasted a while. The hangar is nearly pitch-black, broken only by a few blinking red lights in the distance.
Fatigue starts creeping in. I’m about to let go, to give myself over to rest.
But a faint sound pulls me back. My instincts don’t lie—something’s happening. I listen closely. There it is again: a muffled footstep, closing in.
I sit up and slip out of my pod without a sound. Another noise—closer this time. Someone’s moving quietly between the sleep units. A shadow breaks from the dark, inching toward Sam’s bed.
I leap forward and block his path.
“Not another step,” I whisper sharply.
A red status light briefly illuminates his face. One of the three from earlier. Not the bald one. The quiet one. He freezes, breathing shallow, then steps back with his hands raised.
“Chill, man. I just wanted to talk to her,” he mutters hoarsely. “Nothing bad.”
Liar.
“In the middle of the night? Creeping around like this? You think I’m stupid?”
I hesitate. He came for Sam—and not to chat. If I let him go, he’ll wait for another chance. If not him, one of the others. I have to make an example.
I move in slowly. He backs up, too late.
I grab his head. He tries to fight it, but it’s pointless. One sharp twist, clean and fast. The crack echoes in the silence.
His body goes limp. I catch it before it hits the floor, then drag him off to a corner. That should send a clear enough message to anyone else thinking of going near her.
I return to my pod. Sam is fast asleep.
I plan to get some rest too— I’ve got a fight coming up in the arena in a few days.