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Chapter 4 - CH3: Smoke Between Stars

The morning light poured over Veyron like liquid gold.

The sky, pale violet at dawn, shimmered with energy from the city's upper shield—a faint ripple that filtered out cosmic radiation and amplified the planet's natural qi. Streets flowed like glass rivers, wide and polished, with hovercabs drifting smoothly over guiding rails of radiant blue.

Kaela leaned against the entrance of the EAC Guild building, its towering facade gleaming white and gold like a cathedral to war. Massive holograms flickered overhead, one showing archival footage of the planet's founding: armored mercenaries raising their banner amidst cosmic storms. Another displayed the latest in weapons tech—a crystalline pulse rifle spinning slowly in the air, its specs cycling beside it in neon script.

She exhaled. Even the air here smelled... refined. Scented with synthetic blossoms, ionized minerals, and distant spices from a thousand worlds. This wasn't Ganrok. This wasn't a slum.

"Kaela!" Alenya's voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

She turned. Alenya strode up confidently in a sleek merc jacket and utility boots, her fire-veined Dreklarr skin faintly glowing with excitement. She looked entirely at home here, despite the weaponized beauty of the city.

"Hope I'm not late," she said.

"You're fine. I've just been... people-watching."

"Well, we'll do more of that in style. Come on, I know a place."

---

They walked down a broad avenue lined with floating kiosks and tech bazaars. A Syneth merchant hovered over a display of neural-linked bracers, his transparent skin flickering with data sigils. A group of Varellians—bioluminescent, fae-like—glided through the street in gowns of refracted light, their laughter chiming like crystal windchimes. Even Varyx warriors, towering and lupine, lined up politely for a meat skewer vendor run by a gruff Insectoid chef with beetle horns and four arms.

Kaela marveled quietly. Veyron wasn't just opulence—it was harmony, performance, pageantry. Everything gleamed with control and power.

They arrived at a tiered café carved into the side of a crystal pavilion. Hovering lanterns glowed above each table, rotating slowly and projecting private shimmer-fields. The menu scrolled across the table interface, written in six major languages.

"I'm buying," Alenya said. "Try the Veyronian Cloudfruit tea. Tastes like floating."

Kaela smirked and tapped her order in. "Fine. You're paying, I'm drinking."

A small bot whirred over with two trays, one carrying a tea set with glittering orange-pink liquid, the other with crispy root dumplings and a bowl of thick, steaming broth that smelled of sea minerals and spice.

They ate in silence for a moment, until Kaela spoke.

"So... Xelthora."

Alenya raised an eyebrow. "Still thinking about it?"

Kaela sipped her tea, then nodded. "I've been digging into the archives. Not much is available. Just that it was a battlefield a thousand years ago. The kind that changed star maps. Then... silence. No one's gone there since."

"Which makes it even more suspicious," Alenya replied, chewing thoughtfully. "It's not just monsters we have to worry about."

Kaela leaned in, lowering her voice. "The Mica Prism Crystals."

Alenya sighed. "Yeah. That's the part that bothers me. You don't send thousands of mercs just to thin out some beasts. You do it when there's something there worth dying for. And that usually means other factions are sniffing around too."

Kaela frowned. "You think other nobles will interfere?"

"Wouldn't be the first time. Pirates. Rival mercenary guilds. Cults. Hell, maybe even GCA black-ops." She lowered her voice even more. "This is a free-for-all. Open season. You survive, you keep what you find. The only rule? Don't touch the Mica. Which tells me someone out there wants to corner the market on it."

Kaela exhaled slowly. "So what you're saying is… we're walking into a warzone with invisible landmines."

"Basically."

They fell silent again, the hum of the city around them.

Then Kaela said, "You think there might be... legacy tech left behind? Old manuals? Battle gear from the fallen?"

Alenya's grin widened. "Now that's the spirit. That's the gamble. People risk everything on planets like Xelthora because one find can buy them a planet of their own."

Kaela tapped her glass. "Assuming you make it out alive."

"That part."

---

Kaela looked out across the plaza. The EAC guild building sparkled in the distance like a monument to ambition.

"How do we survive this?" she said finally. "With the kind of monsters they described… not to mention powerhouses, cultivators, ex-soldiers— we're nothing compared to that."

Alenya leaned back, fingers laced behind her head. "We don't stand out. We survive. Lay low. Let the titans clash, and we pick the bones when they're done."

Kaela raised an eyebrow. "That's your plan?"

"No. That's part of it. The other part? Team up. Strength in numbers."

Kaela looked doubtful. "With who? Half of these mercs are thugs. Killers. Criminals. If they see us carrying anything valuable—"

"We'll figure it out," Alenya said. "There's a month before departure. That gives us time to gear up. Find allies. Prep exit plans if we have to. And maybe even cultivate a little before the drop."

Kaela shook her head but smiled faintly. "You make it sound simple."

"It's not. But if we're going, we might as well go smart."

She rose from the table. "First stop—weapon market. Let's see what kind of tech paradise this place really is."

The weapons district sprawled like a neon-lit maze, three levels deep and stacked high with gleaming steel and humming energy. Kaela stepped off the lift and into a sea of banners, floating holograms, and stalls staffed by everything from sleek Crystallines to burly Insectoids sharpening cleavers the size of hoverbikes.

"Alright," Alenya said, eyes wide as they stepped onto the first platform. "Now this is a weapons market."

Kaela gave a low whistle. "I think my eyeball just twitched from excitement."

"Hopefully not the cursed one."

Kaela cracked a rare smirk. "No promises."

They wandered deeper into the bazaar, the air thick with ozone and heat from charging plasma coils. Advertisements shouted for attention:

"NEW! Adaptive Flame Thread Whip! Only 8,000 QCredits!"

"Soul-Linked Pistols with Emotion-Sync Fire Rates!"

"Beast-Touched Gauntlets — Punch with the fury of ten bears!"

A Crystalline merchant floated toward them, skin shimmering like diamond dust, arms clasped behind his back. "Welcome to Bladekiss Armory, off-worlders. Finest energy weapons on Veyron. What… burns your credit today?"

Kaela didn't answer right away. Her gaze drifted from one floating rack to the next. Sleek pistols hummed softly inside stasis bubbles. Daggers glowed with heat-reactive edges. A sniper rifle taller than she was sat mounted like a museum piece.

"Got any LX-92s?" she asked, eyes narrowing. "Dual-barrel variant, with a silencer core."

The Crystalline's mouth twitched—his version of a smile. "Matte black or ion blue?"

"Matte black. Holster pair."

"I like that model," Alenya said, peering at it. "Silent but deadly."

"Describes me perfectly," Kaela said, spinning the pistol in her palm with a grin.

Next came a pair of gauntlets, displayed on a levitating stand like they belonged in a temple.

"These," Kaela said, stepping forward. "Those claws are made of…?"

"Dragonbone-steel alloy, dipped in volcanic blood to bind the spirit metal," the Crystalline intoned. "They'll tear through exoskeletons. And leave a mark."

Kaela slid one on, flexed her fingers. The claws snapped out with a hiss.

"I'm in love."

Alenya had wandered over to a collection of flame-colored scrolls floating in a containment orb.

"Found something?" Kaela called.

"More than one." Alenya tapped the glass and a scroll unfurled mid-air, script burning red across its surface. "This one's a defense technique—Cindershield. Reflects spiritual attacks and stores heat. I've been meaning to boost my defense game."

Kaela glanced over. "You already explode when someone looks at you wrong. Do you really need a shield?"

"For when I want to explode politely."

Kaela rolled her eyes and moved to the back wall where a plasma-edged sword rested, folded into a compact hilt.

"How much for this one?" she asked.

"That," the merchant said reverently, "is part of our Prism-line. Mica-infused blade. Illegal in three systems. Folds down to palm-size. Responds to Qi."

Kaela picked it up, igniting it with a flick of her wrist. The blade extended with a soft hum, shimmering like liquid glass.

"Illegal, huh?" she muttered.

"We're not in those systems," Alenya reminded her.

Kaela sheathed it. "Add it to the tab."

They made their way to the ammo and accessories counter, where Kaela loaded up on plasma cores, high-velocity rounds, and a scope for a sniper rifle she hadn't even found yet. Alenya grabbed a few flame grenades that glowed ominously in her satchel.

When they finally approached the sales counter, the merchant handed Kaela a datapad.

"Total: 17,450 QCredits."

Kaela blinked. "You charging me for the air in here too?"

The merchant blinked his crystalline eyes slowly. "Premium market."

Kaela scowled. "I'll give you fourteen flat. Throw in the holsters, ammo, and that obsidian dagger set."

"Madness," the Crystalline said.

Alenya leaned forward. "We'll bring two Chitinari mercs we met at the docks. Both rich. Both reckless. If you close sales with them, that's twenty thousand easy."

The vendor folded his shimmering arms. "...Sixteen."

Kaela narrowed her eyes. "Fifteen-five and I don't torch this whole stall out of principle."

He hesitated, then inclined his head. "Done."

Kaela paid with a grimace. "There goes the backup rent."

"Who needs rent when you're going to a death-world?" Alenya grinned.

They exited the stall with several wrapped packages, newly synced weapons uploaded into their QComms, and the faint whir of energy pulsing from Kaela's gauntlets.

"We still need armor," Alenya said.

Kaela nodded. "And cultivation manuals. But we're broke now."

"Jobs, then. We find something fast, do it clean, stack credits. A week, maybe two, and we come back for the rest."

Kaela looked at the polished Veyron skyline—skyscrapers like holy blades, traffic flowing like glowing rivers in the sky, people from every race mingling in harmony the fringes could never afford.

"Let's make it quick," she said. "I don't want to get too used to comfort."

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