Page 77 of Claimed By the Vykan
“Yes, Vykan.”
They met Isshyr’s ships just above the high ridgelines, the sky throwing violent light between them. Energy blasts struck the Bastion’s shields and spilled away in bright cascades, repelled by the new reinforcement layers. Kyrax watchedthe readings calmly; shield integrity remained well within acceptable range.
Isshyr’s ships carried anti-shield penetrators, but Kyrax had anticipated that. He always learned from an opponent and ensured they never used the same tactic against him twice.
“Return fire,” he ordered. “Target their joints and engines.”
Beams lanced out from his fleet, precise and devastating. Where they hit, enemy armor buckled, ships listing and pulling back, smoke and fragments torn into the mist.
“Push them back toward their own territory,” Kyrax said.
His commands flowed into the comms, cool and decisive. They drove Isshyr’s fleet back over the forested valleys, deeper into the glowing grey where the mist thickened upward like a second ocean.
Somewhere below lay the old boundary between their domains.
Isshyr’s ships strained to hold the line. Kyrax’s forces did not relent.
He could feel the Bastion at his back, shields firm, people safe. And beneath that—the constant pulse of Morgan, steady but concerned, sheltering in the fortress he defended.
“Vykan,” came the voice of his navigator over the link, calm despite the chaos. “We have identified Isshyr’s personal vessel. TheKethran Lance.”
Talen Rhess had served as his navigator for over a decade—sharp-minded, unflappable, with an instinct for spatial shifts that bordered on precognition.
“Mark its position,” Kyrax said.
The projection before him highlighted one of the enemy cruisers—a slightly larger silhouette, engines running hotter, formation instinctively clustered around it.
“Take us in,” Kyrax ordered. “The others will cover.”
Nuar adjusted their vector without argument. They had done this before. Too many times.
TheVorath’s Edgeplunged toward the highlighted ship, flanked by two escort vessels that peeled away at the last moment to draw fire. Enemy guns swung to track them, but Kyrax’s defenses soaked the initial barrage without issue.
“Bring us alongside,” he said. “Lower ventral hatch when in range.”
The hull shuddered as they matched speed with theKethran Lance.The enemy ship loomed beneath them, its armor closer now, score marks from the earlier exchange visible along its flank.
“Ventral alignment optimal,” Nuar reported. “You have a stable drop vector.”
Kyrax did not hesitate.
He rose from the command throne and moved to the lower access bay. The oval hatch cycled open, revealing a brief tunnel of air and mist before the enemy ship’s roof.
Without breaking stride, he stepped out into the void and dropped.
Wind slammed against his armor for an instant, then vanished as his suit compensated. He landed on theKethran Lance’shull in a crouch, metal ringing under his weight. The enemy ship bucked, trying to shake him off, but his gauntlets dug into the plating and held.
Stronger.
He almost startled himself with how easy it felt now.
Attunement had not weakened him. It had sharpened everything. The bond with Morgan threaded through his awareness, a quiet line of warmth that steadied rather than distracted.
He drove his fist into the hull.
The metal buckled. He punched again, tearing a ragged circle free, prying it open with a strength no Saelori or other species could have matched. Atmosphere howled for a moment, then the emergency seals kicked in, stabilizing the breach.
He dropped through into the ship.
