Decisive Decision

Thedaius Craven stood with his hammers, his massive, gorilla-like form casting an imposing shadow beneath the artificial lights of the spaceport. Thick, corded muscle layered his body, his fur-lined arms flexing as he adjusted his grip. His once-human features now bore the distinct traits of his awakened Void Crystal bloodline—heavy-set jaw, elongated limbs, and the sheer, overwhelming presence of a beast of war.

The men were approaching.

He actually smiled.

His cultivation had been stuck at low B-rank for so long. Unlike the lower ranks, where progress was a matter of resources and training, B-rank was different. It wasn't just about what you consumed—it was about what you were.

Once, they had called him the Beast.

His hammers had crushed his adversaries.

He had led men—from the front.

And now?

He realized he had forgotten who he was.

Somewhere along the way, he had become something else—his wife's pet to show off. A status symbol. A soldier who had contributed meritorious service to the Emperor, but little else.

That wasn't him.

Not anymore.

Thedaius grinned as the men got closer.

He knew what he needed to do.

Earth still limited its cultivators to high B-rank, but that hadn't been the thing holding him back. His rivals had surpassed him. Even his own children had grown beyond him.

And it was because he had forgotten his ideal.

Standing by. Doing nothing while Adam—his own son-in-law—fought against the resistance of the noble system.

His daughter had been decisive in saving her children.

And for that?

He was proud of her.

He loved all his children. He did.

But the life of petty games played by the nobles…

It wouldn't be his game any longer, he thought.

There were about ten men, clad in dark armor, rifles in hand. Meddling cultivators—trained, but not a real threat. Not to him.

Then he saw the man in the back.

Void-black eyes.

His jaw tensed.

That one would be a problem.

Those with void eyes always were. Their abilities had Great Awakening, giving them power far beyond the others. But it wasn't just their strength—it was the way they fought. Brutal. Efficient. Soulless.

He hated fighting them.

The man was dressed like the others—a sleek black jumpsuit, tight at the wrists, military issue—but unlike them, he carried no weapon.

That meant it was in his ring of holding.

Brown hair, void-black eyes. A little too neat, too well-groomed, like he cared about appearances.

Late 30s, but young 30s, the kind that came from rejuvenation treatments.

A little under six feet. Lean, but built in a way that suggested hard power, not just speed. His thinning hair didn't quite match the sharpness of his face—a face that had seen war.

A scar ran just below his left eye. Small, old.

His grandfather knew him.

Alexander Croft.

The Croft King.

A low-B ranker. Strong—but not stronger than him.

And a dark affinity user.

The void-eyed man stepped forward, his expression unreadable.

"Greetings, General."

Thedaius didn't move. His grip tightened on his hammers.

"Hello, Alexander Croft," he said evenly. "What brings a noble's security force out to the spaceport without their noble?"

He made sure to emphasize that last part.

You are no Emperor's soldier.

Alexander's lips curled slightly, unfazed. "Ah, yes. Your wife has a writ from a judge. She is to be the guardian of your grandchildren. Shall we fetch them?"

His tone was casual. His eyes weren't.

Thedaius exhaled slowly.

Time to put her in her place.

"I am actually glad you came." He rolled his shoulders, feeling the weight of the moment settle. "I, Thedaius Craven, son of Robert Drake—" He paused, letting the words sit.

He had married into his wife's family for status. A political marriage. Nothing more.

That life was over.

His voice steadied.

"I apply to the Dread Corps."

Silence.

Alexander's smirk thinned.

Thedaius met his gaze, unflinching.

"Will you, Alexander Croft, hear my words and deliver me in the Emperor's glory? I give a life oath to the Emperor's cause. My life be forfeit before the Emperor's great victory. My blood is that of the Empire's!"

His hand rose to his chest in salute.

He saw it—the slight flicker in Alexander's expression.

Frustration.

Annoyance.

He tried to mask it, but Thedaius knew.

A judge's writ was one thing. A B-ranker giving a life oath to the Dread Corps?

That took precedence.

His daughter only needed to survive ten years.

A life oath was forever.

Alexander forced a smile, thin and sharp.

"Of course, my general." His voice remained smooth, but there was a tightness behind it now. "Let us go with triumph and glory."

Then his expression darkened.

"May the enemies of the Emperor be vanquished under your mighty hammer."

Alexander tried to motion to his men to continue their pursuit of the children, but Thedaius stepped in front of them, blocking their path.

"Are you not proclamation holders?" His voice was firm, unwavering. "Will you not escort me on this glorious journey?"

Alexander's expression barely shifted, but Thedaius saw the flicker of irritation in his void-black eyes.

The man had no choice.

The Empire designed it this way.

The Dread Corps offered both protection and status—and once a life oath was taken, all other legal matters became secondary.

The judge who signed the writ for his wife had barely written it—enough to pass, but not enough to hold real weight.

A fallen lady with little influence?

That was one thing.

But a meritorious general—one who had bled for the Empire, one who had earned his place?

That was another matter entirely.

Adam had questioned the status quo and been punished for it.

Thedaius had upheld it.

And now?

He was using it to his advantage.

Alexander smiled, tight and thin.

"Come, men." His voice carried no warmth. "Let us lead the general through the gates. For the Empire!"

The soldiers hesitated, but they had no choice. They saluted and fell into step behind Thedaius.

As he walked away, following Alexander, he exhaled slowly.

This was his gambit.

He would live or die on the battlefield.

Let the Beast be reborn.

He let go of his bloodline, the power coursing through his veins fading as he prepared himself.

If he could awaken a mana law, good. If not—death was fine.

But he would go as a beast of the Empire.

And he had decisively protected his grandchildren.

He wondered, absently, if he would end up on the same frontlines as his daughter.