The Illustrious hung in orbit, ten longstrides from the resource planet’s Veil. Normally, anyone looking from the outside inwards, or the reverse, would be hampered by that barrier. In normal sight, the planet was nothing more than a blue-green marble floating in the darkness of the Void Ocean. However, the colour one could perceive from the Void indicated what kind of planet or plane was hidden within. Blue-green meant water and wood. 

“Status report?” Wyllan Caina asked the Admiral. 

“As expected. The planet only has one settlement, a combination of spaceport and warehousing. There are depots spread out across the main landmass where the resources, biomass in this case, as well as a few MiJin of processed metals, are kept for a while before being transported to the main hub.” A map overlay appeared in front of them and the admiral pointed at several symbols. “Those depots aren’t well guarded and our marines are headed there rather than the hub.”

Wyllan nodded. They were here to take supplies, not to occupy the planet. They had a couple of days to finish up before the threat of reinforcements or a counter-task force arrived. The earlier raids had already filled up their coffers and they acquired the necessary materials to forge a Key. There was little need to lose lives over this matter. Well, other than sticking it to the Draconians. 

He noticed the admiral frown as a notification appeared on her tab. She swore and started furiously giving commands, “Track the anomaly, make sure none of the other fighters come close to effective range. Do not engage!” 

“What happened?” 

“An anomaly,” the admiral replied. “One of our scout fighters, unit 4B, was taken out. Footage shows a human-sized opponent flew across several dozen longstrides in two seconds, then neutralised and captured the fighter. Engagement lasted two seconds.” 

“An Ancient?”

“Unknown. Anomaly didn’t do anything other than telekinesis. The footage isn’t clear, but there was some kind of glow. Yellowish light.” 

“It could be Magi…” Wyllan mused. “A powerful one. But considering this is Draconian Territory, it’s just as likely Ancients from the Conclave of Technocracy.” 

“Are you and the others going to sortie?” 

“We’ll have to,”  Wyllan said sternly, though he was holding down his excitement. It had been a while since he’d crossed blades with another Ancient that didn’t involve a training spar. He called ahead to his circle, and a grumpy Alyssa answered. 

“What is it, Wyl. You woke…I mean, I was deep into meditation.” 

“Contact with hostile Ancients planetside.” 

“Oh, any idea of the level?” 

“Unknown. They took out a Voudship fighter in four seconds flat.” 

“Like that’s difficult,” Alyssa scoffed. “Both of us could do it.” 

“I know, but this still requires intervention.” 

“Alright, I’ll head to the drop pods.” 

“Tell Glenn, Zanji, and Anya, too.” 

“You do it!” Alyssa said crossly and Wyllan chuckled. 

“Fine.”

It made little difference who called the rest of the circle considering all of them were inside the Illustrious cooling their heels. Only Wyllan was a Sha’ledras, hence interested in the doings of his race’s faction, while the others were merely there as part of the Ancient’s Circle. The bond between the five of them was preordained and nurtured from a young age. They crossed the thresholds of Anima strength together, and when one faltered, the others pulled them along. They lived, grew, and would die, as one. Or at least, that was the ideal of the Conclaves. No Ancient should risk being alone. 

He made the calls, and the rest of his circle responded and acknowledged. It took less than a minute of going at full speed for Wyllan to reach the drop pods, but another couple of minutes before he completed the checks on his gear. 

Powered armour was the norm in the Void Ocean. Even though he and the other Ancients could survive in the vacuum of space, there was no reason to forcefully endure. Unfortunately, advanced classes of Ancient powered armour weren’t really available to young Actualised. Ashigaru armour merely increased the wearer’s Anima reach and density by ten percent but it also had a perpetual life support system, removed tracks, and sported a data link that connected with the Illustrious even through the Veil. 

The rest of his circle arrived soon after, each in their own Ashigaru armour. Aside from the differences in height, nothing distinguished them from each other save for a small insignia emblazoned on their pauldrons. 

They filed into the drop pod, locked themselves into the harness, and allowed it to seal itself. The pod rumbled as it was moved towards the chute, and while it did so, Wyllan couldn’t help but laugh at Alyssa’s heavy panting. 

“Still not used to this? You’ve dropped hundreds of times,” he said.

“Give ‘er a rest,” Glenn Boyle, their gigantic warrior, rumbled. “So she has a phobia, nothing to be ashamed of.” 

“Shut it, G!” Alyssa growled. “It is something to be ashamed of, especially since there’s nothing to be afraid of! It’s not as if a ten longstride drop’s going to hurt…me…?” She gasped as she realised what she said, then continued to hyperventilate. 

“It’ll be over before you know it,” Anya said laconically, ever the lazy kitten. 

“Shaddup!”

Wyllan’s stomach flew up to his throat when the pod dripped through the chute. 

“Aieeee!” Alyssa’s pale green Anima flared and pressed up against all of them. Wyllan cursed softly and flexed his own Anima, pale red (not pink!), and pushed her aura off. 

It was a heartstopping minute until the pod abruptly decelerated, and another two minutes before they touched down. The heads-up display inside his helm fired up and the data link processed everything happening on the ground level. The pod practically fell apart and all five of them stepped out of the debris. 

“We’re five ‘strides from the hub,” Wyllan said, a bit unnecessarily since everyone had the same display, though perhaps Alyssa needed it, considering how she was wobbling on shaky knees. “Pull yourself together lads.”

“Shaddup!” Alyssa growled. “We’re in a live combat zone now, Wyl. Glenn assumes command.” 

“Ah, yes, of course,” Wyllan replied. Glenn was the most steadfast, rational, and cool-headed amongst the group, which wasn’t all due to his Ennoia, though that certainly helped. 

A quick survey of the surroundings, and a check on the map display, confirmed that three hundred ship’s marines had landed and were currently keeping the spaceport busy, while the rest of the thousand-man legion went all over the landmass to raid the depots. The placement didn’t make much sense if Wyllan thought about it too much. Most Draconians were profit-driven capitalist pigs, but he supposed retraining and paying death benefits was more expensive than losing product. But he knew that if the balance shifted the other way, /Draconian leadership would have little problem leaving their people to die. 

He wove his Anima into his greaves, and with a bit of Ennoia energies, he created thrust that allowed him to hover above the ground. The view allowed him to get a better idea of what was happening, and… 

Boom! 

The marines, in their own powered armour, were shooting rockets at the hub’s shield. The shield only protected the port facility, leaving the other buildings, residential and commercial, exposed. Some buildings already had holes in their walls and roofs, while others were on fire. The attack had happened too quickly for civilian evacuation, and consequently, there was some sporadic resistance. Most were huddling behind cover. 

The main force of the marines was occupied, but not by the return fire from the port facility’s turrets, but by a couple of fighters that had the telltale signs of Anima expansion. They were also in powered armour, but Wyllan could tell that it wasn’t Ancient gear, just mundane protection. Barely better than nothing. 

He dropped back to the ground. “Two opposing Ancients fending off marines.” 

“We shall advance steadily,” Glenn said. “Wyl, return on overwatch and see if you can discover their Conclave. There’s little doubt that they’re supporting the Draconians, but they’re just as likely to be mercenaries.”

“Agreed.”

“We will approach and challenge them to an Ancient’s Duel.” 

With that, they proceeded at a steady pace, not quite hurrying, but fast enough to reach the area within five minutes. More than enough time to observe and see who amongst the circle would be a good match. 

He sought no advantage for the fight ahead. Fighting others of their kind was one of the best ways to break past limits. He’d lingered at twenty paces for decades already, forced to use Ignition to increase his Anima density instead of his reach. While denser Anima was more potent, a proportional increase in reach was better holistically than just increasing density. If they were lucky, all of them, including the opposing Ancients, would see an increase in reach, even if it was only fractional. Every little bit counted, especially if he wanted to reach Transformation within the millennia. 

Advancing to the next stage with insufficient reach meant an even longer time to accumulate power at that stage before they could even become average. At the same time, being at that Stage meant different responsibilities and restrictions. In other words, though he could ascend to Transformation now since his reach was twice the minimum needed, it would only mean he would be at the bottom of the totem pole. He’d be the small fish in a bigger and wider ocean. 

He watched the two Ancients fight the marines. There were others on their side, but he dismissed them as mostly irrelevant. He wasn’t arrogant enough to think that non-Ancients weren’t a threat, but as long as he could perceive them, then most of the danger was ameliorated. Anima perception was the first thing most younglings learned, otherwise, it would take a mortal’s lifetime to get used to seeing and feeling everything within their reach. 

One of the Ancients was tall and broad. He couldn’t tell their physique since the armour they wore was rather bulky. He guessed it was a man, however, or a rather muscular woman. The other was slender, and probably feminine, though the armour hid the possible curves. What clued him in was how they moved. There was a bit of a sway to the hips, so unless it was an effeminate man, definitely a woman. 

The big one, perhaps stereotypically, fought at close range. They wielded a polearm, a spear from the looks of it, though he used it to sweep as well as thrust. Every movement he made created a shockwave, and he made some gestures that created a barely visible energy shield that blocked bullets and rockets. It could also be the man’s Animakinesis, in which case, he was defence-focused. 

“A good match for Alyssa,” he muttered. Or Glenn, too, but defence experts fighting against each other turned such battles into long and boring slogs. 

The other Ancient danced into and out of melee range, slashing with a staff that encased the marines with ice after a mere touch. She also flung crystal shards to intercept any grenades launched towards her or those that would hit her companion. Their teamwork was commendable, but he could already spot vulnerabilities just from the first minute alone. For one thing, they seemed too afraid of normal munitions and didn’t use their Anima aura to block or absorb hits. There was also a slight delay when the two switched targets. 

At the very least, they weren’t holding back against mortals, though the marines weren’t at baseline strength. They weren’t going for deliberate kill shots but weren’t using nonlethal takedowns either. 

Wyllan frowned. The two were competent Ancients, of that there was little doubt. But if so, then was one of them the anomaly who took down the fighter ship? He observed them for a long moment. 

“It could be one of them, but if so…” He stared at the marine contingent. In the past few minutes, only a few had been taken out. Any Ancient who could overwhelm a fighter Voidship in mid-air should have little trouble polishing off the marines. 

So who, and more importantly, where, was the one responsible?

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