“Incoming,” tactical whispered. “Twelve signatures. Fast movers.”
The enemy squadron split. Two vectors. They knew. Of course they knew. Every pirate in the sector had learned the rhythm of a Navarch’s recharge. Thirty seconds of vulnerability. Thirty seconds to close range, to overwhelm point defense, to kill the god before she could pray again. navarch ability cooldown 30 seconds
The Navarch herself, Captain Sorya Kel, stood motionless at the center of the command deck. Her eyes were closed. Around her neck, the crimson coil of her authority—a living alloy that fused flesh to ship—pulsed faintly, recharging. She had just torn a hole in reality to swallow three cruisers. Now she bled from her nose. A fine tremor ran through her left hand. “Incoming,” tactical whispered
The enemy was already firing. Their first salvo hung in the void, a hundred streaks of tungsten and plasma. Two vectors
“Brace for impact,” Darrow said.
Kel’s jaw tightened. He saw her fingers twitch. She wanted to act. The ability was there , simmering just beneath her skin, crackling along the alloy. But the cooldown was a wall. A promise written in her own neural architecture: You are powerful, but you are not infinite.