Cracks Beneath the Surface

But what struck Orion most was the ambiguity of it all. History, he realized, was not a simple recounting of events but a battleground of narratives. The Reyes family's own legacy was a prime example: celebrated as saviors by some, condemned as opportunists by others.

The victories of his father, Cassian Reyes, were no exception. Official accounts hailed him as a tactical genius who fought for the Confederacy's survival, yet whispers of ulterior motives lingered in the shadows of those triumphs.

Some claimed his campaigns against the Codex were less about safeguarding humanity and more about consolidating power. By swallowing entire regions under the Reyes banner, his father had not only ensured the Confederacy's dominance but also expanded their family's influence across multiple systems. The line between duty and ambition blurred, leaving Orion to wonder: had his father been a savior, or simply another opportunist in the galaxy's endless power struggle?

They arrived at the study, where a tutor was waiting for them. The man—a tall, thin figure with a sharp nose and a stern demeanor—greeted them with a curt nod. "Young master, young mistress," he said. "Please, take your seats."

Orion and Ren sat side by side at a long, polished table. The tutor activated a holographic display, which projected a series of images and timelines into the air before them.

"Today," the tutor began, "we will discuss the Codex Chrysalis and the war that we are currently staging against them."

Orion leaned forward, his interest piqued. The Codex Chrysalis. He had come across the name in his private studies, but the information had been fragmented and incomplete. Now, he had the chance to learn more.

The tutor gestured to an image of a sprawling network of interconnected nodes, each one glowing with a faint, ominous light. "The Codex Chrysalis was once a scientific initiative, a coalition of the brightest minds across the galaxy, united by a single goal: to push the boundaries of human potential. However, as is often the case with ambition, their work took a darker turn."

The images shifted, showing scenes of chaos and destruction. Cities burned, fleets clashed in the void of space, and countless lives were lost. "The Codex fractured into splinter factions, each pursuing their own agenda. Some sought to conquer, others to manipulate, and a few simply wished to survive."

Orion's gaze remained fixed on the holographic display. The images stirred something within him, a mix of curiosity and unease. He thought of his father, Cassian, who was said to have eradicated 70% of the Codex's forces. Yet even that victory had come at a cost. The war had drained the Reyes family's resources, forcing Cassian to consolidate power by absorbing smaller factions and exploiting conquered territories.

"The Reyes family," the tutor said, "led the way in mecha technology during humanity's desperate war against the Nethryon 162 years ago. The Nethryon are giant, wolf-like apex predators from the icy moon Vyr-Kethra. These fierce predators were nearly unstoppable. But the Reyes family stepped up and created the first mechas—simple but groundbreaking machines—that gave humanity a fighting chance."

"Since the war with the Codex erupted five years ago, the Reyes family has developed: 31 groundbreaking prototypes—9 light, 18 medium, and 4 heavy-class models. Each design was meticulously crafted to counter the Codex's ever-evolving threats, significantly bolstering our defenses and turning the tide in our favor." The tutor paused, glancing at them to gauge their reaction.

Orion raised his hand. The tutor arched an eyebrow but nodded for him to speak.

"Why is there such a disparity in the numbers?" Orion asked. "Why are there so many more light and medium mechas compared to heavy ones, even though heavy mechas seem to be the most deployed units? After all, any planet worth attacking will invest heavily in its defenses."

The tutor's expression softened slightly, a glimmer of respect crossing his otherwise stern features. "An astute observation, young master. The disparity stems from practicality and strategy. Light and medium mechas are inherently more adaptable and cost-effective, making them invaluable for rapid deployment and data acquisition. They serve as the backbone of our forces, collecting real-time intelligence that shapes our understanding of battlefield dynamics. Heavy mechas, however, demand not only extensive battle data but also a monumental investment of resources and testing to perfect their intricate systems. Their limited numbers reflect their role as strategic assets, deployed only when their overwhelming power is crucial."

Orion nodded, filing the information away for later contemplation. After the lesson, Orion returned to the library, his mind buzzing with questions. He sat at one of the many desks, surrounded by shelves filled with books and data drives. A holographic interface hovered before him, waiting for his input.

He hesitated for a moment, then typed in a query: Planet Earth.

The interface processed Orion's request, projecting a series of documents and articles into the air before him. He leaned in, his eyes intent as he scanned the glowing text. At first, the information seemed promising, but as he read further, it grew confusing and inconsistent.

Records of Earth—the place widely considered humanity's birthplace—were wildly contradictory. Some called it a crumbled ruin, steeped in myth and lost to time. Others claimed it was a hidden sanctuary, preserved by isolated factions. A few dismissed it entirely, branding it irrelevant in a galaxy that had moved far beyond its ancient origins. Earth's story seemed to twist and shift depending on the source, as though someone had deliberately obscured its truth.

Even within the Confederacy, families had clashing beliefs about Earth's fate. Some argued that Earth had turned inward, retreating from the galaxy to protect its purity. Others suggested Earth wasn't humanity's home at all.

Frustration simmered beneath Orion's calm expression. How could something so central to humanity's history be so unclear? He tried to piece together facts, searching for maps, historical accounts, even old legends. But every avenue led to more contradictions.

Orion leaned back in his chair, his small hands gripping the armrests as he stared at the glowing holograms. The conflicting narratives about Earth mirrored the greater dissonance he had sensed in this world. For all its technological marvels, there were cracks beneath the polished surface—questions left unanswered, histories left untold.

He exhaled slowly, his mind racing. Earth wasn't just a planet to him. It was a connection to his past life, the world where he had lived, suffered, and ultimately perished. If it still existed, it might hold answers to questions he hadn't yet dared to ask: Why had he been reborn? Why five hundred years into the future? Why on this distant planet from where he died?

The door to the library creaked open, and Orion instinctively shut down the holographic interface. Ren stepped inside, her sharp gray eyes immediately locking onto him.

"You're still here," she said, folding her arms. "I thought you'd be in the solarium by now. Mother was asking for you."

Orion gave her a small smile, an attempt to mask the turmoil brewing inside. "I got caught up in something. Do you know what this is about?"

Ren shrugged. "Probably something about the heir festival next week."

Orion nodded, standing and brushing dust from his clothes. "I'll head there now."

As they walked through the estate's labyrinthine halls, Ren glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "You've been spending a lot of time in the library lately. What are you looking for?"

"Nothing in particular, just trying to fill in the gaps." Orion replied, his tone neutral. "There's a lot about the world I still don't understand."

Ren smirked. "You're five. Most kids your age are worried about toys, not galactic politics."

"And you're seven," he said, smirking. "Yet here you are, pretending you don't sneak into the simulation chambers after curfew."

She stiffened. "I'm training. Unlike some people, I plan to win the trials."

"Ah, yes. The sacred trials," Orion drawled, rolling his eyes. "Because nothing says 'healthy childhood' like combat rankings before puberty."

Ren's glare sharpened. "You're just scared I'll outscore you."

"Absolutely petrified," he deadpanned, his tone laden with sarcasm. "I'll be sure to lament my fate."