(Somewhere in deep space, aboard the Private craft headed for Rodova, Leo's POV)
A few minutes after the craft had left the gravitational field of Twin Fang Planet, and was sufficiently deep into space, Leo finally left his seat and walked towards the captain's cabin with calm steps.
He combed his hair back with his fingers, his expression relaxed, as he approached the door and pretended to enter in a nonchalant way, his posture loose, his gait measured, as he did everything in his power to not spook the man behind the controls.
The captain glanced back briefly as Leo stepped in, offering a casual nod before returning to the console.
Leo returned the nod politely and walked over, stopping just behind the pilot's chair.
"How long until we reach Rodova?" he asked casually, as though he were simply bored and making conversation to pass the time.
"About twelve hours," the captain replied, checking a dial. "The route's clear of any asteroid or floating comets and there are no nebula clouds in our current trajectory, so this should be a pretty smooth ride."
Leo tilted his head slightly, feigning mild interest.
"And this is as fast as you can go?"
"Already pushing her to the edge, my friend," the man said with a chuckle. "Any more and the regulators'll throw a fit. You don't want to burn out the mana coils mid-transit."
Leo gave a quiet hum in response, as if satisfied.
"You know, I always wanted to know what that small red button–" Leo began, as he pointed towards a specific button on the console with one hand, drawing the pilot's attention towards it….
While with the other, he stabbed him.
*SPLAT*
A silver flash streaked through the air as the dagger plunged straight into the side of the captain's neck.
The man's smile didn't even have time to vanish before his eyes glazed over, a spray of blood coating the control board as he gurgled once and collapsed forward.
Leo caught the body before it could hit the floor, laid it to the side, and slid effortlessly into the command seat.
The pilot's lifeless fingers twitched once before going still, but Leo paid it no mind.
Instead, he reached over the blood-smeared console and began tapping in a new flight route, the coordinates provided to him by the Cult stored in the corner of his mind like a sacred script.
A few seconds later, the ship's trajectory shifted. The artificial gravity hummed as the engines adjusted course, veering away from the Rodova-bound route and heading toward the barren void ahead.
*Ding*
A small blinking message appeared on the corner of the screen.
[Estimated Journey Time: 19 minutes]
Leo leaned back in the captain's chair and exhaled softly, his fingers resting against his chin as he stared out into the distant stars.
All he had to do now was wait, and in roughly 19 minutes, he would arrive at his intended destination.
—----------
(About half a solar system away, Fredrick's POV)
In the cockpit of the Black Serpent chase craft, Fredrick's sharp eyes stared intently at the blinking screen before him.
A red triangle had just appeared on the edge of the radar sweep, pinging faintly as it moved through a quiet sector of space.
"There," he muttered. "That's him."
The pilot nodded. "Craft ID 20H3 bound towards Rodova, that's indeed the craft we are supposed to chase."
Fredrick's eyes narrowed. At their current speed, they would catch up to the craft ahead in roughly seven to eight minutes.
But then, something unexpected happened.
The red triangle suddenly drifted off-course, as if it had changed its flight path without warning.
Instead of heading toward Rodova, it began to veer toward a less populated sector of the starfield. A region that had no habitable planets for at least a couple days' worth of journey ahead.
"Why?" Fredrick whispered, more to himself than anyone else. "Why has the direction suddenly changed?"
The pilot turned toward him. "Should we follow?"
"Of course. Stay on him. Don't lose visual," Fredrick ordered quickly, his mind already spinning through possibilities, none of which he liked.
A moment later, as the distance between the two crafts reduced to under four million kilometers, which was the maximum range at which inter-flight radars worked, the pilot of Fredrick's craft finally tapped into the communication system and sent out a ping.
"Black Serpent Craft 20H3, please come in. I repeat, Craft 20H3, do you copy?" he requested, but received no response.
"Black Serpent Craft, this is a pursuit ship sent by Vice Guildmaster Antonio. Please stop at once if you copy," the pilot warned, his voice tense as he waited.
But once again, there was no response from the craft ahead.
The pilot turned back to Fredrick, uncertain. "Still nothing, sir."
"Try again. Change frequency," Fredrick said, jaw tightening with each passing second.
The pilot nodded and cycled through three more channels, sending the same message repeatedly, but they all ended in silence.
"The craft ahead is not responding, but we are closing in on them. We should be right at their tail in two minutes," the pilot informed.
Fredrick nodded, expression unreadable as he stood behind the pilot and stared straight ahead.
The next two minutes passed by in a focused blur, the silence in the cockpit thick enough to be felt, as the rogue shuttle loomed larger and larger in their forward view.
Once they were directly behind it, Fredrick leaned in slightly.
"Try again. One last time. This time, let them know that if they don't stop immediately, we'll shoot them out of space."
"Yes, sir." The pilot flipped a switch and transmitted with a hardened tone.
"Craft 20H3, if you don't stop now, we will blow you to pieces. I repeat, we will blow you to pieces."
The words hung in the air for a few seconds, but there was still no answer.
Another three nerve-wracking minutes passed.
The chase craft now flew directly above the rogue shuttle, its full silhouette visible through the main viewport, gliding silently ahead like a ghost.
Fredrick stood behind the pilot, arms crossed, his fingers twitching at his side.
"I don't like this," he muttered under his breath. "Why the silence? Why did the course change? What the hell are you planning, Skyshard?"
A quiet tension settled into his chest as his mind weighed the options. On one hand, he did not actually want to blow the craft to pieces, because that would make recovering the item Leo had stolen nearly impossible amongst all the craft debris.
However, letting him continue forward like this, toward unknown coordinates and with unknown motives, was also something Fredrick could not allow.
Something needed to give.
And so, Fredrick made his choice.
He stepped forward and issued one final command. "Point the mana guns towards their rear thrusters, the aim is to disable and not destroy."
The pilot acknowledged, fingers flying across the console as the ship's weapons locked on.
Fredrick's gaze never wavered from the craft ahead, his instincts screaming at him that whatever Skyshard was planning, it needed to be stopped before it was too late, or the damage it would cause would be irreversible.