(13 days after the fall of Juxta, Planet Ixtal)
The very last Cult planet to fall was Ixtal, a world revered above all others, and perhaps the most historically significant realm in the Cult's long and turbulent legacy, for it was here that the foundation of their entire faith was laid.
It was the birthplace of the Cult of Ascension, the cradle of its earliest prophets, and the land where the first Cult Elders had taken their vows beneath the Timeless Assassin's watchful eyes.
Every tree, every grain of sand, and every drop of water on Ixtal carried echoes of the faith that had once united billions across the stars.
Yet now, thirteen days after the fall of Juxta, the Righteous Fleet had finally reached this holy land.
*FSSHHH*
*RRRRUMBLE*
*BOOOOOOM*
Thousands of beams lit up the heavens in synchronized arcs, as if the stars themselves were collapsing onto the planet below.
The bombardment began at dawn and did not cease until noon, turning the once-pure atmosphere into an unbreathable pollution dump full of toxic gases.
Ancient monuments and priceless relics were reduced to drifting cinders, yet amid this sea of ruin, one region still stood untouched — the Lost Forest, and at its heart, Soron's Castle, the Eternal Sanctuary.
The bombers had flown over it countless times, their targeting systems locked, their fingers hovering above the launch triggers, yet not a single strike was made. For strict orders had been issued across the entire Righteous Fleet before deployment:
"Destroy Ixtal. Erase everything that bears the Cult's mark. But do not, under any circumstance, bomb Soron's Castle or the Lost Forest surrounding it."
No one questioned the order. They simply obeyed. Even the most zealous commanders hesitated to bring harm to the forest that legends said still contained some of the most precious herbs in the universe.
So they burned everything else instead.
The ancient cities crumbled. Its academies shattered. Its golden statues melted into formless lumps of ash and metal. Until nothing was left of the old order.
Resistance on the ground was sparse but fierce. A handful of old farmers, crippled soldiers, and stubborn believers who had refused to evacuate now made their final stand. They fought not to win, but to die on their soil—to protect the faith that had already been lost.
Their blades were dull, their weapons outdated, yet their conviction did not waver.
Even when the skies themselves rained destruction, they fought.
By the time the bombardment ended, Ixtal was unrecognizable.
The spiritual capital of the Cult had been reduced to a wasteland of smoke and shattered stone, its sacred rivers boiled into clouds of steam, and its once-emerald skies choked gray with ash.
High above the ruin, the Righteous Fleet drifted in triumphant silence before erupting into celebration, their voices echoing through the comms as they hailed the end of an era. In their eyes, they had finally purged the universe of an ancient evil, erasing the Cult of Ascension that had defied them for millennia.
Yet beneath the cheers and the cries of victory, a faint dissatisfaction still lingered. For while the last of the Cult's holy worlds now lay in ruin, its final Dragon still lived.
For until Aegon Veyr was found, captured, and executed, their victory could never be complete.
(Orbit Above Ixtal, Commander Halver's POV)
Commander Halver stood on the bridge of the Destroyer ship, as he watched the devastated surface of Ixtal spin slowly beneath the viewport.
The once-green world, long celebrated by the Cult as the cradle of ascension, now lay silent beneath his feet, cloaked in nothing but ash and dull glow of dying fires.
*BZZTT*
The comm line flickered to life as a young officer's voice came through, steady but tinged with awe. "Commander, all sectors report clear. neutralized. Ground teams confirm there are no surviving fortifications or active energy signatures. The planet is ours."
Halver didn't respond immediately. His gaze remained fixed on the scarred landscape below, the faint traces of old rivers winding like black veins across the ruined terrain. After several seconds, he spoke, his tone calm and deliberate. "And the Dragon?"
The officer hesitated before replying. "No sign of him, sir. All intelligence points to an early evacuation. He likely fled before our fleet entered orbit."
Halver let out a slow breath through his nose, clasping his hands behind his back. "So he ran..." he said quietly. "The serpent slithers away while the nest burns."
He turned from the viewport, his sharp blue eyes sweeping across the rows of officers at their stations. "Transmit this across the fleet," he ordered. "The planet of Ixtal has fallen. The Cult of Ascension no longer holds any world, any fortress, or any throne. Good has prevailed over evil today."
A murmur of pride rippled through the bridge crew, but Halver raised his hand slightly, his expression hardening. "But do not mistake victory for completion," he said. "We have severed the body of the beast, but the heart still beats somewhere in the dark."
He walked slowly toward the viewport again, his reflection merging with the stars beyond. "The Dragon Aegon Veyr is that heart. As long as he draws breath, the Cult's embers will continue to smolder, waiting for wind to fan them back into flame. And when that happens, the rot we fought so hard to cleanse will begin again."
He paused, his voice growing colder. "One weed left alive can poison the entire field. One survivor can rebuild an empire of monsters."
He gestured toward the world below. "Look at what they built. Temples for murderers, libraries for deceivers, monuments for blasphemers. And for what? For power they could never wield responsibly. Their belief system was a lie from the start."
His officers listened in silence as Halver straightened to his full height, his uniform spotless even under the dim lighting. "We've done today what generations of the universe's finest soldiers before us could not. We've purged their sacred soil and silenced their bravest warriors. But our work isn't over until the Dragon's head decorates a spire of justice."
He turned sharply, his boots clicking against the steel floor. "Issue orders to every recon fleet. Sweep the neutral zones, the black markets, the unregistered colonies. Question every merchant, every traveler, every smuggler that crosses our borders. I want Aegon Veyr's head delivered to me within the next 72 hours."
"Yes, Commander!" the crew shouted in unison.
Halver looked once more at the dying planet below, his voice lowering to a whisper. "Mercy breeds weakness, and weakness breeds defiance. The Dragon will die, or the stars themselves will burn before we rest."
(More chapters in Buyers club for TMT)