Page 29 of Stars in Nova

Kisan met Raza’s gaze, his viridescent eyes steady. ‘Sante.’

Raza clapped him on the shoulder, his hand heavy but comforting. ‘You’re a complicated man, Guardian, but you’ve got fantastic taste. The woman is a rare gem. Treat her well.’

The gregarious man left to make the arrangements, leaving Kisan in deep thought.

His eyes were toward the lake, and the glow of its surface reflected off his chiseled features.

The conversation had answered some questions but left many more swirling in his mind.Who was Samira?

What was the story behind the muted sadness in her eyes?

Why was he sofokkin’ drawn to her?

He had no answers for now—only the anticipation of a private session with an intriguing woman to look forward to.

Kisan’s day began before artificial dawn broke across the moon planet’s towering domes.

Eden Guard HQ hummed with guards securing armor, charging power packs, and muttering quiet plans for the day.

Kisan moved through them like a shadow, strapping on his black tactical gear.

By mid-morning, the Rider was sprinting through the twisting alleys of the trade district, his boots pounding against slick synth-stone streets.

Ahead, a bootlegger darted between stalls, scattering startled vendors and leaving a trail of chaos.

Kisan vaulted over a fruit stand, the acrid scent of crushed citrus filling the air as he landed with catlike precision.

The smuggler made a desperate lunge for a hidden exit, but the Guardian was faster. He tackled the man into the dirt, pinning him without much effort.

‘You’ve got nowhere left to run,’ the meta Guardian growled, hauling the sputtering man to his feet.

The rest of the team cuffed him, their faces betraying relief at Kisan’s efficiency.

Sector V erupted into chaos at noon.

A water shortage had pushed tensions to their breaking point, turning the market square into a battleground.

Vendors and desperate residents clashed, shouts and cries reverberating off the surrounding buildings.

The meta man waded into the fray, his towering frame commanding attention. ‘Enough!’ he roared, his voice slicing through the noise like a blade.

He grabbed two brawlers by their collars, lifting them as though they weighed nothing. When a bottle arced through the air toward him, Kisan caught it with a gloved hand, the glass shattering harmlessly.

The crowd stilled, their fury replaced by wary silence.

For the next hour, he mediated the brawl, his patience stretched thin but his purpose unyielding. By the time the market had calmed, sweat clung to his skin beneath his synth armor, and his voice was muted and hoarse due to overuse.

Late afternoon brought a call to the industrial sector, where a malfunctioning loading mech had gone berserk.

Its hydraulic arms smashed through crates and walls, its screeching enough to set teeth on edge.

Kisan moved in with calculated precision, his luminous aqua eyes analyzing the mech’s erratic movements. Timing his approach, he lunged forward with a crackling stun baton, jamming it into the control panel.

A surge of energy rippled through the machine, freezing it mid-swing before it collapsed into a heap of smoking metal.

‘You’re welcome,’ the Rider muttered to the foreman, brushing the soot from his gloves as the workers stared at him in astonishment.

When he returned home, his muscles ached, his mind weary of the day’s events.

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