(Planet Juxta, Charles's POV)
Charles stood on the high deck of the command tower, his gaze fixed on the dozens of massive cargo ships rising steadily into the dark sky. Their hulls glimmered faintly under the flood lights of the hangar bay, engines roaring as they pushed against the pull of Juxta's gravity.
*Vrrrmmmmm*
The planetary barrier above flickered for only a few seconds, peeling apart just wide enough to let the fleet slip through. Then, as soon as the last vessel cleared the breach, the shimmering shield closed again, sealing the planet in its dome of light.
"Go on... don't look back," Charles muttered under his breath, watching until the ships became distant specks.
Those vessels carried more than just wealth. They carried relics, blueprints, medicines, archives— treasures Juxta couldn't afford to lose if the worst came to pass. And among them, a small frog with a couple blades on his back and a letter in his pouch.
Dumpy would do his part. Charles knew it.
'Everything is proceeding on schedule...' He exhaled through his nose, brushing ash from his coat as his hand hovered briefly over the communicator at his hip.
'Only one thing left for me to do now. Then that's it. Then I can focus solely on the fight at hand.' He thought, as he turned away from the viewing deck and strode down the steel walkway, his boots echoing with every step.
Soldiers saluted him as he passed, though he barely acknowledged them. His mind already focused on the task ahead.
The Cult-Wide Broadcast Station loomed at the end of the hall, its heavy doors guarded by two sentries who straightened the moment they spotted him. Charles gave a small nod, and they swung the doors open without question.
Inside, the hum of crystals and arrays filled the chamber, monitors glowing with faint blue light, the network already primed for planetary-wide transmission, as the staff members adjusted their cameras and lighting, and showed Charles the spot where he was supposed to sit.
*Cough*
Coughing lightly, Charles adjusted the collar of his uniform and took his seat, as he looked straight into the lead camera and began his speech.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, citizens of the Cult... apologies for breaking into your usual broadcast, but this address cannot wait."
Charles's voice carried steady through the broadcast, his hands folded behind his back as the screen lit up across millions of homes.
For a moment, the only sound was the faint hum of the transmission, until his words struck again.
"As I speak, an unprecedented number of enemy ships, soldiers, and elite warriors are bearing down on Juxta.... Within a few hours, it's possible that I may be compromised and trapped behind enemy lines, fighting in a battle that will stain our skies red."
He paused, letting the silence stretch, forcing every man, woman, and child to absorb what that meant, as his eyes that were usually so calm and mocking, now held the gravity of a man who knew the cost of every word he spoke.
"As Vice-Sect Master, I am bound to assume control of this Cult in times of crisis, and whenever Lord Soron is absent on his own missions. And today... I must inform you with a heavy heart, that Lord Soron is indeed away." His voice dipped lower, not wavering but thickening with weight.
"That makes me your Acting Sect Master. And yet... an Acting Sect Master cannot fight from behind enemy lines. Which means I must do what my duty demands and name Leo Skyshard, our Shadow Dragon, as my successor, and this Cult's temporary Sect Master until Lord Soron returns." The words cut like steel across the transmission, leaving no room for doubt.
"I ask you all, no, I beg you... place your faith in him. Follow him. Endure through him, for the times ahead will not be kind, but this boy carries in him the strength to guide us where I cannot."
He drew a sharp breath, eyes closing for just a fraction before opening again with hardened resolve.
"The Cult Army has stood for over 2,200 years, shielding our lands through darkness and fire. Yet tonight, we may not prevail."
"Tonight, the enemy may gain momentum, and the pillars of our old Empire might be shaken to their core, however, it's not the end, just a twilight before our resurgence."
Charles leaned forward, his voice carrying more fire now, his tone shifting from announcement to promise.
"We will endure, because our dragons endure. The Shadow Dragon Leo Skyshard, and the Cult's Messiah, the Dragon Aegon Veyr, will stand as our beacons of hope in this dark hour, and through them, our story will not end here, but shall be rewritten."
He drew closer to the recorder, his final words quieter, almost personal, as if spoken directly into the hearts of every citizen.
"To the people of Juxta... stay in your homes. Guard your children. Hold onto each other. And to my brothers, sisters, and soldiers across the stars — keep the flame of our rebellion alive. Carry it forward, no matter the cost, until the day comes when we rule the cosmos once again."
The screen flickered once, Charles's gaze unblinking, before the transmission ended, as he felt a strange calm wash over him.
*Sigh*
Sighing deeply, he made peace with his situation. The kind that only came when a man accepted his death long before the blade reached his neck.
For years now he had carried titles, responsibilities, expectations heavier than iron, yet with a few words spoken into the broadcast crystal, all of it had slipped from his shoulders.
As of this moment, he had no more decisions left to make. No more burdens left to carry.
Only the final battle remained, and the freedom that came with it.
*Crack*
*Crack*
*Crack*
He flexed his fingers, cracking his knuckles one by one, before rolling his neck until the tension popped away, leaving only silence in its place.
"Now... I'm free," he muttered, lips twisting into a weary grin.
As with nothing left to lose, Charles strode out of the broadcast hall feeling like a common soldier once more, who was ready to meet his fate head-on.
(More chapters in Buyers club for TMT)