The fires had burned out. The sky was no longer filled with the shrieks of dragons or the roar of plasma turrets. What remained was silence—a silence heavy with questions.

  Captain Lewis stood in his office aboard the Liberty, staring out the viewport. The battlefield below was still being cleaned up, bodies—both human and dragon—were being moved, and engineers were already patching up defenses.

  But none of that weighed on him as much as what had just been reported.

  Magic.

  Real to honest directors magic somthing from old fairy tales

  The elf had done something. Something none of them could explain that could have been the same with the ancients or supers of the past.

  A soft knock on the door broke his thoughts. McGregor stepped in first, followed by Agent Lokei. The spook's ever-calculating eyes were focused on the third figure behind him.

  The elf.

  She had changed out of her torn robes, now wearing a loose gray military-issue jumpsuit. Her silver hair, though still wild, had been hastily tied back. Her wrists remained free, and yet, Lewis could feel the same presence, the same authority, she carried before.

  She gestured toward the two other men. Then, in a smooth, almost melodic voice, she spoke.

  Lokei smirked, translating. "She wants to speak with you alone, Captain."

  McGregor frowned. "Alone? Sir, that’s not—"

  Lewis raised a hand, cutting him off. His gut told him there was no threat. If she wanted him dead, she would have done it already.

  "Fine." He gave Lokei a look. "You stay. You're our only way of talking to her."

  McGregor hesitated before nodding and stepping out, leaving the three alone.

  The elf closed her eyes, breathing deeply. Then, she raised her hands.

  A soft blue glow radiated from her fingertips, spiraling outward like threads of mist. Lewis tensed slightly, but Lokei held up a hand. "Wait."

  The glow pulsed outward until it washed over them both—Lewis and Lokei.

  And suddenly… the words made sense.

  The strange, melodic language she spoke shifted in his mind, becoming English.

  Lewis’s eyes widened slightly.

  The elf looked at him now, expectantly.

  "Now we may speak freely, without the barrier of tongue," she said.

  Lewis folded his arms. "You’re telling me you just rewired my brain so I could understand you?"

  She shook her head. "No. It is but a spell of understanding. Temporary. But necessary."

  Lokei muttered under his breath. "Well, that's new."

  Lewis exhaled, forcing himself to focus. Magic or not, this was still a negotiation. "Alright. You went through a hell of a lot of trouble to get me here. So talk."

  She stepped closer, urgency in her voice. "I did what I had to because my people will not survive without you."

  Lewis didn’t reply, letting her continue.

  "Your weapons. Your machines. Your power." She gestured toward the base outside. "We have fought the dragons for generations, but never—never—have they fallen like they did today."

  Lewis nodded. "Your people are at war with them?"

  Her expression darkened. "No. We are prey."

  A silence settled over the room.

  Then, she took a breath and spoke words that made Lewis’s stomach tighten.

  "And worse than the dragons… is the one who commands them."

  The fires were out, the dragons were gone, and the base still stood. That was a damn good reason to celebrate.

  Daniels, Hayes, and the rest of the squad piled into the modular barracks, collapsing onto bunks, crates, and whatever else could support their exhausted bodies.

  "Well," Hayes exhaled, running a hand through his sweat-drenched hair, "that was a thing."

  "Understatement of the year," Daniels grunted, pulling off his boots and tossing them onto the floor. "We fought space dragons, met a magic elf, and somehow, I'm still alive. I call that a win."

  William let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "You know, I thought getting out of the Multiversal War meant we’d finally get some peace. Turns out, we just stepped into ‘Avatar: The Medieval Edition.’"

  Laughter erupted around the room.

  Hayes groaned. "God, don't remind me. I still have nightmares of getting deployed on Xal-Six. They said the ‘natives’ would be easy. Next thing you know, bioluminescent cat people are tearing through our squads like paper."

  "At least they didn’t breathe fire," Daniels added.

  William stretched his arms. "Yeah, but let’s be honest—did any of you think we’d get out of the Union just to end up in another war?"

  Silence fell for a brief moment.

  Then Collins snorted. "Oh, absolutely. We’re marines. If there’s a war, we’ll find it. Or it’ll find us."

  That got another round of chuckles.

  One of the younger marines, Rodriguez, sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Alright, but real talk—what’s the deal with the elf? What even happened?"

  "She pulled some kind of Jedi mind trick on the dragons," Hayes said. "Made them think we were all dead, and poof—just like that, they flew off."

  Daniels whistled. "Man, wish I had that ability back in the old war. Would’ve saved me a hell of a lot of ammo."

  Rodriguez shook his head. "I dunno, man. Magic? Like, real-ass magic? That’s… kinda crazy, right?"

  "You’re saying that," Collins said, "after fighting dragons. Like, what was the breaking point for you? The fire-breathing lizards weren’t enough?"

  Rodriguez opened his mouth, then closed it. "…Alright, fair point."

  The room filled with laughter, the tension finally breaking. It wasn’t every day that a squad of marines fought dragons and got saved by an elf who, until that morning, they would’ve sworn didn’t exist.

  Then, Rodriguez glanced at the storage crate in the middle of the room—the one with the ancient relic of a past civilization resting on top.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  The Nintendo Switch.

  Silence fell over the group. Then, as if by unspoken agreement, Hayes reached over, pressed the power button, and the screen flickered to life.

  William cracked his knuckles. “Alright, where were we?”

  Daniels groaned. “I believe you were about to get your ass handed to you.”

  Hayes grinned, selecting Bowser. “Oh, it’s on now.”

  Rodriguez shook his head. "Man, we just survived a dragon horde, and this is how we celebrate?"

  Collins, arms crossed, let out an amused huff. "You know what? Screw it. Move over, I’m taking Yoshi."

  As the first race started, the barracks filled with the sounds of cheering, cursing, and heated competition. For a little while, war didn’t matter. The Multiversal War, the dragons, the elves, the Union—it all faded away.

  For now, all that mattered was the finish line.

  The interrogation room was no longer the simple, makeshift holding cell it had been before. Now, additional armed guards stood at the entrance, their rifles held at the ready. The atmosphere was thick with tension, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on everyone present.

  Captain Lewis entered the room cautiously, his sharp eyes scanning everything—the guards, the reinforced restraints on the elf’s wrists, and even the med scanner being used by Dr. Evelyn Cart, the ship’s Chief Medical Officer. The doctor was finishing up a basic check, her expression skeptical as she examined the readings from her portable device.

  “Vitals are stable, but I still don’t know how the hell her biology works,” Dr. Cart muttered, shaking her head. “She doesn’t have any cybernetics, no nanotech, nothing that should allow for the kind of enhancements we saw earlier. And yet, her nervous system is operating at peak efficiency, almost like she’s running on a completely different kind of energy.”

  Lewis narrowed his eyes as he crossed his arms. “Magic,” he said dryly.

  Cart huffed. “I don’t believe in magic. But whatever it is, it’s beyond what our scanners can fully detect.”

  Standing beside Lewis was Commander Patrick McGregor, his second-in-command. He hadn’t taken his hand off his sidearm since they entered. His eyes never left the elf, his body tense like a coiled spring.

  “This could be a trap, sir,” McGregor muttered under his breath. “She already slipped out once. What’s stopping her from trying again?”

  “She’s still here,” Lewis pointed out. “She could’ve killed those guards instead of just knocking them out. That tells me she wants something.”

  McGregor didn’t look convinced, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

  The elf, who had been silent up to this point, suddenly looked up, her violet eyes locking onto the captain. She studied him for a long moment before speaking.

  “I wish to speak to you alone.”

  Lokei, standing at the far end of the room, translated the request. A smirk crossed his face. “Looks like you’ve got a private audience, Captain.”

  McGregor immediately tensed. “No chance in hell. She already played us once—”

  Lewis held up a hand, cutting him off. He studied the elf carefully, his gut instinct telling him that she wasn’t trying to pull anything. There was something in her eyes—determination, but also desperation.

  Finally, he nodded. “The guards stay outside. Lokei stays to translate.”

  McGregor looked like he wanted to protest, but Lewis shot him a firm look. With a reluctant sigh, the commander relented, signaling to the soldiers. One by one, they filed out, leaving only Lewis, Lokei, and the elf in the room.

  As the door sealed shut, Lewis took a seat across from her, folding his hands together. “Alright,” he said, his voice level. “Talk.”

  The elf inhaled deeply, her voice steady but urgent. “I have seen your strength. Your people do not seek conquest, yet your weapons are devastating.”

  Lokei translated swiftly, though Lewis already had a sense of where this was going.

  “Tell me…” the elf continued, her gaze unwavering. “Are you stranded here?”

  Lewis hesitated for the briefest of moments before nodding. “We are.”

  The elf exhaled, as if she had been expecting that answer. “Then we may have an accord.”

  Lewis leaned forward slightly. “Go on.”

  She sat up straighter, her voice carrying the weight of something far greater than herself. “The one my people call the Evil One… he has enslaved my people. He has taken artifacts left behind by the old gods—artifacts of power. He seeks to use them to awaken something terrible.”

  Lewis exchanged a glance with Lokei before turning back to her. “And?”

  The elf’s expression hardened. “If you help my people… I will give you what you need to stop him. The technology he is using to raise the Ancients—it may help you return home.”

  Silence filled the room. Lewis sat back, considering her words carefully. If she was telling the truth, then this “Evil One” wasn’t just a local warlord—he was playing with something far bigger, something dangerous. And if the Ancients were truly tied to the technology they needed…

  Lewis exhaled slowly. “That’s a hell of a promise.”

  The elf held his gaze. “It is not a promise. It is the only way.”

  Lewis remained silent, letting the weight of her words settle. His mind was already running through the possibilities.

  Portal technology.

  The crew had been stranded here since the ship's engines had failed, cutting them off from any way to escape this planet. The damage to their FTL drives was extensive, and their engineers had determined that the dimensional rift stabilizers—crucial components for their multiversal travel—had been fried beyond repair. Without a way to create or control a stable wormhole, they were trapped.

  And now, this elf was offering them something suspiciously similar.

  Lewis narrowed his eyes. “These artifacts… you’re saying they can bring back the Ancients. But how?”

  The elf hesitated for a moment before responding. “They open the path. They allow passage where there was none before.”

  Lokei tilted his head slightly, picking up on the phrasing. “Sounds like some kind of gateway system. Maybe even a controlled wormhole.”

  Lewis exhaled through his nose. “And the ‘Evil One’ is using this?”

  The elf nodded. “He seeks to awaken them… but he may only succeed in tearing the sky apart.”

  Tearing the sky apart. That sent a chill through Lewis’s spine. He had seen what uncontrolled portal technology could do during the Multiversal War—entire fleets lost to collapsing wormholes, entire planets ripped apart when unstable rifts formed in their atmosphere. If this so-called “Evil One” was tampering with technology far beyond his understanding, the consequences could be catastrophic.

  But more importantly, if they got their hands on that technology, they might be able to fix the Liberty.

  Lewis leaned forward, clasping his hands together. “Let’s say we help you. What exactly do you need from us?”

  The elf’s expression was resolute. “Weapons. Soldiers. Strength. My people cannot fight alone. If we rise up, he will destroy us. But if we stand with you…” she hesitated, then looked him directly in the eye, “…we can end this. And perhaps, you may find what you are looking for.”

  Lewis didn’t respond immediately. His thoughts drifted to his crew, to the men and women who had already lost so much. They had escaped one war, only to land in another. And yet, this war might be the key to finally getting home.

  He let out a slow breath. “I’m going to have to think about this.”

  The elf nodded, understanding.

  Lokei, leaning against the wall, smirked. “Well, Captain… looks like we just got our first diplomatic mission.”

  The Evil One stood atop the towering black spire of his citadel, gazing over the endless ocean that stretched beyond the mist-laden islands of his domain. Jagged cliffs lined the shores below, where waves crashed violently against ancient, weather-worn stone. The winds carried the scent of salt, blood, and lingering traces of old magic.

  From this vantage point, he could see the ruins of civilizations that had once dared to challenge him—crumbling remnants of those who believed they could shape the world without consequence. He had watched them rise with arrogance, wielding steel and fire, believing themselves destined to rule. He had watched them fall, broken and forgotten.

  His fingers curled against the cold obsidian railing as his thoughts drifted through the centuries.

  The first invaders had come in primitive machines—biplanes and bombers that filled the skies with their crude, smoke-spewing engines. They thought themselves mighty, carrying death in their bellies, yet they were insects against the power of the ancients. They burned, their machines tumbling from the heavens like dying stars.

  Then came the next wave. They had learned. Adapted. Their weapons grew more sophisticated, their armor thicker, their minds sharper. They sought magic, desperate to understand what they had no right to wield. Some thought themselves worthy of it. They were mistaken.

  And now, these new invaders had arrived. Different. Calculated. Their weapons tore through his dragons like they were mere beasts, not creations of divine wrath. He had sensed something within them—something unnatural, something beyond the wars of the past.

  Yet, in the end, they too had been foiled.

  The dragons had withdrawn.

  Not because of his command.

  Because of her.

  His eyes narrowed, a slow, measured breath filling his lungs. She had always been obedient. A perfect tool. But something had changed.

  A shadow stirred behind him. A cloaked figure emerged from the darkness, bowing deeply.

  "My lord," the voice rasped, low and reverent. "The invaders survived the last battle. The girl… she has chosen a different path."

  Silence.

  The air grew heavy, thick with an unseen force. The very stones beneath them seemed to tremble under his gaze.

  "Then she has made her choice," he said finally, his voice cold and distant. "And she will live with the consequences."

  He turned, stepping away from the railing, his boots echoing through the chamber as he approached a massive, timeworn map carved into the castle walls—centuries of war and conquest etched into its surface. His gaze settled on the mainland, his lips curling into the faintest shadow of a smile.

  "There are other matters to attend to, aren’t there?"

  The figure behind him straightened. "Yes, my lord. The mainland stands undefended. Our spies confirm their forces are scattered. The time to strike is now."

  Good.

  The Evil One exhaled slowly, raising a single hand. The great obsidian monoliths surrounding the citadel pulsed with raw energy, veins of crackling red light slithering across their surfaces like living things.

  "The gods will not wait," he murmured. "The materials we need—arcane metals, sacred stones, the relics buried beneath the ruins of the old world—they will be ours. The mainland will give us what we require."

  The figure bowed once more, stepping back into the shadows as the order was given.

  The warbands would be unleashed. The raid would commence.

  And soon, the final pieces would be in place.

  The old gods would rise again.