[KEN'S POV]
I stood in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection.
The red-and-black uniform fit me perfectly. Sharp lines, gold trim, a high collar. Seven years of blood, sweat, and silence all led to this moment. I reached out and rested my hand on the red cross stitched into the left side of the chest—the symbol of the Inquisitor Order. Authority. Power. Fear. Everything I had wanted since I was ten.
A chime echoed from my data tab, snapping me out of the moment.
Newly assigned Inquisitors must report to the Weapons Development Lab. High Lord Inquisitor Marcos and Director Sarah Virellian will be present. Attendance is mandatory.
I didn't waste a second.
By the time I arrived, the others were already there. Theo spotted me immediately, flashing that annoying grin of his. I ignored it and looked away. He never gets the message.
High Lord Marcos appeared moments later—an eight-foot-tall colossus with broad shoulders and a voice like a thunderclap. His black hair was slicked back, and every step he took carried weight.
Sarah was with him, standing quietly in the back. She wasn't here to talk, just observe.
Marcos stepped forward.
"You survived the implantation and psychic energy infusion. That's good. But don't get ahead of yourselves."
His tone darkened.
"You may have psychic energy, but you're still human. Unlike the paladins and mages of the Holy Empire, you can't regenerate. You lose an arm, you stay armless. You die, you stay dead."
No one spoke.
"The Order has developed something to even the odds—a new generation of nano-fiber battle suits. Unlike the outdated bulky models, these are seamless, precise. Each thread woven with stellarium."
I raised an eyebrow. Stellarium? That was nearly mythical. A metal harder than anything in the galaxy and nearly impossible to extract. Where did they get that?
Marcos continued, "Normally, these suits are for seasoned Inquisitors. But the Emperor has given his blessing for your generation to use them."
He turned toward Sarah. "Each of you will be given a serum. Once injected, it'll trigger the nanofibers implanted during your enhancement process."
One by one, we stepped forward.
When it was my turn, Sarah didn't say a word. She just injected me with the serum.
At first… nothing. Then heat.
Like fire spreading through my veins.
My skin burned. My bones felt like they were vibrating. Then, as if responding to the heat, the nanofibers activated. Black threads surged across my body, wrapping around me like a second skin. In seconds, I was encased in a sleek, form-fitting battle suit—jet black with crimson lines pulsing along the limbs and torso. A helmet formed around my head, yet I could breathe normally. Move effortlessly.
I felt stronger. Lighter. Like I was made for war.
Marcos' voice echoed again. "These suits are linked to your cerebral cortex. You can summon or retract them at will. They're powered by your own psychic energy. If you're drained, they won't activate. Use them wisely."
He paused, then added, "They also come with digital storage. You can store your weapons, gear, anything you need. The more psychic energy you have, the more storage space you get."
With that, he turned. "Follow me to the vault."
I retracted the suit with a thought. It disappeared into thin air, leaving only the faint hum of energy behind.
As we walked, Theo came up beside me again.
"So… what kind of weapon do you use?"
I didn't want to talk. "A sword."
He gave a small laugh. "Figures. You've always been that way."
I didn't reply.
"I'm going for a gun. Might not be flashy, but it's efficient." He kept walking beside me like we were friends.
We weren't.
The vault doors opened with a mechanical hiss.
Inside was a cathedral of death—racks of weapons, blades, firearms, staves, even things I didn't recognize. Weapons lined the walls like sacred relics. This place was a temple.
Marcos stood before us and gestured to everything around.
"This is your armory. Choose a weapon that resonates with your energy. Once chosen, it is bound to you. You can't replace it. So pick wisely."
Everyone scattered.
[Theo – Pov]
I made my way to the firearms section, drawn to the large rifles lined up like loyal sentries. One caught my eye immediately—a sleek, black sniper rifle with faint blue circuitry along its barrel. It radiated precision and danger.
I turned to Marcos.
"Sir, what's this rifle called?"
He looked over, brow raised. "That's the Vel'korr Talon. Designed to take down mid-sized space cruisers before they leave orbit. One shot draws enough psychic energy to knock you unconscious if you're not prepared."
He paused. "I'd advise something more… manageable."
I smiled and slung it over my shoulder.
"I choose this one."
[Ken –pov]
While the others made their decisions, I walked deeper into the vault. Past swords with glowing edges, plasma-coated blades, and vibrating katanas. None of them felt right.
Then, near a pile of discarded relics, something caught my eye.
It looked like a katana, but straighter. The steel was dull, aged, ancient. It didn't shine—it brooded. Something about it pulled at me.
I picked it up.
It was heavy—absurdly heavy. My arms strained to lift it.
I brought it to Marcos. "What's this?"
His eyes widened. "You… where did you find that?"
He stepped closer, almost reverently. "That's one of the twenty Psychic Relic Blades forged during the beginning of the war. Made by condensing psychic energy into physical matter."
He stared at it with awe.
"But it was discarded. No one could wield it. It drains too much energy. Impossible to use practically."
I nodded slowly. "Thanks."
I walked back to where I found it. I should've put it down. I almost did.
But something inside me said no.
I gripped the handle and channeled my psychic energy into the blade.
Nothing happened.
Then, everything happened.
A blinding flash exploded from the sword as it pulsed with life. Power surged from the hilt to the tip, and I felt it drink my energy greedily. Like it was waking up from a thousand-year slumber.
Marcos and the others ran over, shielding their eyes from the light.
When the glow faded, I stood there, the sword in hand. Alive. Connected.
Marcos stared, stunned.
"Unbelievable," he whispered. "You… you activated it."
I didn't say anything.
The sword didn't feel like something I chose.
It felt like something that had chosen me.