{3 Years Later, The Desert Planet now named Valth}
Sylas awakens in his massive bed. Standing by his side, Sera informs him with a calm yet efficient tone,
"Everything is ready. All the spaceships have been assembled, and the mining team is prepared to launch towards the Void-Tide Asteroid Field."
As she continues, Sera adds, "We're ready to start taking orders. I suggest reaching out to a client who might benefit from our services."
"One such client is Zeratek Industries, a major player in the production of advanced communication devices something that we will need, is located in the Deltaeus Solar System, on the planet Elystrion."
"Their leader, Tarren Kale, is known to be ambitious and constantly seeking high-grade materials for their projects."
"Oh okay, we will discuss that when I am ready to stand up." Sylas said as he got ready to turn around and go back to sleep.
"Unfortunately you can't go back to sleep because you have a meeting with him in 10 hours and it takes 9 hours to get to the planet where the meeting will take place." Sera said with a slight chuckle.
*******
{Unknown}
In the dimly lit hall, an unknown man sat cross-legged on the cold stone floor, his eyes shut in deep meditation.
He was young, but his aura carried a weight far beyond his years.
His lower face was hidden behind a black mask, concealing a mouth distorted by a past injury.
With each slow breath, he felt the flow of Aether around him, every pulse of energy.
The silence was absolute, broken only by the faint flicker of torches lining the luxurious walls.
A soft chime echoed through the hall as an elderly man, adorned with regal robes and heavy with jewels of authority, entered the chamber.
His steps were deliberate, but there was a sense of urgency in his movements.
The young man opened his eyes, the faint glow of Aether fading from them, and rose smoothly to his feet.
"I've broken through, Master," he reported, his voice steady, carrying no hint of pride—only certainty.
The old man studied him for a moment, a flicker of approval crossing his eyes before he spoke. "Come with me. You're ready."
Without hesitation, the young man followed his master.
They walked in silence, their footsteps echoing through the grand hallways of the palace.
At last, they arrived at a throne room.
The old man approached the throne, placing his right hand on an intricate design carved into the wall behind it.
With a low rumble, the wall shifted aside, revealing a hidden passage.
They descended into a secret chamber, their path lit by faint, glowing runes embedded in the walls.
At the end of the passage, a large iron door swung open, revealing a vast ancient library.
Shelves stretched endlessly in all directions, filled with scrolls, tomes, and tablets from long-forgotten times.
"This," the old man said, his voice echoing in the hollow room, "is the legacy of the Transcendent Faction. It has been passed down through generations on this planet. Knowledge from the First Era lies here, waiting for the one who will revive our cause."
The young man looked around, his eyes lingering briefly on the priceless relics before his gaze returned to his master.
There was no awe in his expression—only calculation.
Suddenly, without warning, he moved.
In a single fluid motion, he grabbed a blade on one of the shelves and drove it into the old man's back, the tip stopping just short of his heart.
The old man staggered, gripping a nearby shelf for support as blood seeped from the wound.
"Why?" the old man rasped, his voice filled with pain and disbelief. "Why betray me?"
The young man's eyes were cold as he starrd at the old man on the ground and he replied. "Because you lost your nerve. You're no longer working toward the revival of the Transcendent Faction."
" You've grown weak, hesitant. I will do what you couldn't—I'll restore our faction to its rightful glory."
The old man coughed, a weak chuckle escaping his lips. "Is that so? You fool... I didn't have long to live anyway. I was planning to give you the throne."
The young man froze, caught off guard by the admission.
With trembling fingers, the old man removed one of the rings on his hand and handed it to him. "This ring is the heirloom of the Transcendent Faction. It will serve as your key... and your burden."
"You'll understand more when you read my diary. My final wish… is to be cremated. Use my remains to forge your flagship. That way, I can still witness… what you become."
The old man's voice faded as he slumped forward, his life slipping away.
The young man stood motionless, staring at the body. After a moment, he bowed deeply, a final gesture of respect.
"Your wish will be fulfilled, Master," he said quietly. He carried the old man's corpse out of the chamber and summoned a droid guard.
"Take this for cleaning. He is to be properly cremated, and his ashes prepared for the flagship."
Once the droid left, he turned back to the secret door.
He placed his right hand on the intricate design, mimicking what his master had done earlier—but nothing happened.
Frowning, he hesitated, then placed his left hand, the one wearing the ring, against the door.
With a soft click, the mechanism activated, and the door swung open.
"So that's it…" he murmured, realizing that his master's elaborate display had been nothing more than a diversion to throw others off.
He stepped into the ancient library once more, walking slowly through its vast halls.
His eyes scanned the countless relics and scrolls, but only a few things caught his attention.
He stopped before a stasis showcase, where a black suit of armour gleamed under the faint light.
[The inscription read: The First Transcendent Lord's Armor.]
Without hesitation, he took the armour and donned it.
A few meters away, he noticed a cloak in another display case.
The description revealed it to be the only surviving piece of the last Transcendent Lord's armour.
He took the cloak as well, fastening it around his shoulders.
"These shouldn't be left here to rot," he muttered. He ignored the other artifacts, deeming them less important, and approached his master's desk.
There, he found the documentation and carefully picked it up.
Walking back to the entrance, he shut the door behind him and returned to the throne room.
Sitting on the throne, he pressed a button on the armrest.
Nothing happened.
He frowned, switching the ring to his right hand and pressing the button again.
This time, the system activated.
A series of holographic displays materialized before him, showing the faces of various leaders—pirates, mercenaries, the Aetherian Temple, planetary rulers, merchant groups, and companies.
Each of them represented a hidden part of the Transcendent Faction.
Calmly, he began to speak, his voice echoing with authority across the comm channels.
"The time has come. The Transcendent Faction will rise once more."