Chapter 13: Siege of Shadows

Roen Kast gripped the dais so hard his knuckles cracked, the cold stone thrumming under his palms like a heartbeat on the edge of breaking. The Crack Void Hub loomed above, its jagged walls pulsing blue, a fortress clawing its way to life—ten hours, fifty-six minutes until it could move, until they could run. But the sky didn't care about his countdown. Four Kast family ships sliced through the mist, their black hulls glinting like knives, cannons glowing red-hot under stubby wings. The wind howled, sharp and bitter, slapping Roen's face with the tang of smoke and scorched metal from the scout ship's wreck below.

Liya stood beside him, her leg shaking under the bloody bandage, her longsword clutched tight despite the quiver in her grip. "Fleet, huh?" she rasped, her grin more snarl than smile. "Kast bastards brought the whole damn parade—guess we're special." She swatted her arm, muttering, "And these wind bugs—fuck off already."

Roen snorted, though his gut was a knot of ice. "Yeah, special enough to die twice." He squinted up, the ships hovering like vultures—1.2 kilometers out, closing fast at fifty meters a second. Twenty-four seconds 'til they were in range, maybe less if they punched it. The system panel flared, cold and unyielding:

System Notification: Kast fleet detected—4 aerial vessels, 1.1 kilometers, closing at 50 meters per second. Armament: plasma cannons, missile pods. Defensive Pulse unavailable: 23 hours, 57 minutes cooldown. Hostile intent confirmed.

"Plasma cannons," Roen muttered, his voice tight. "Missiles. Perfect." His architect's brain spun—back on Earth, he'd dodged deadlines, not death machines. Here, he had a half-baked tower, a bent sword, and a platform cracking under every hit. The hub's walls were solid, twenty feet high, but they weren't a shield—not yet.

"Kid," Liya said, her bravado cracking, "we're toast, right? No zap, no running—how we fighting that?" She pointed at the ships, her hand steady despite the fear in her eyes.

Roen's jaw clenched, his mind racing through angles, weak spots, anything. "We don't fight," he said, shoving her toward the dais. "We survive—use the hub. It's toughening up—might take a hit or two." His eyes darted—the dais was central, the walls a jagged ring around them. Cover, maybe, if they hugged tight.

The lead ship broke the mist, 800 meters out, its cannons flaring. A robotic voice boomed: "Roen Kast—surrender or be eradicated." The words echoed, cold and final, like the judge's gavel in his borrowed memories.

"Surrender my ass," Roen growled, ducking behind the dais. "Liya, down!" A blast screamed in—red light searing the air, heat licking his neck—and slammed the platform's edge. Stone exploded, shards raining, the ground bucking hard enough to knock them flat. Roen hit the dirt, ears ringing, tasting blood where he'd bit his lip.

"Fuckers!" Liya yelled, scrambling up, her sword slashing air like she could cut the ship down. "Missed again—learn to aim, you tincan pricks!" Another blast ripped past, scorching the dais's rim, and she dove, crashing beside Roen with a grunt. "Okay, kid, this ain't funny—my leg's killing me!"

Roen's chest heaved, dust stinging his eyes. The hub jolted—a deep, resonant pulse—and the walls flexed, blue veins thickening like arteries pumping harder. The system pinged:

System Notification: Structural integrity at 85%. Evolution surge detected—reinforcement accelerating. Movement unlock in 10 hours, 55 minutes, 33 seconds.

"Eighty-five percent," Roen rasped, peering over the dais. The ships—600 meters now—banked wide, circling like wolves sniffing a kill. "It's holding—barely." He felt it—the hub's hum vibrating through his bones, a beast snarling back at the sky. It wasn't just stone; it was alive, fighting with them.

Liya coughed, wiping blood off her chin. "So what—we hug this rock 'til it grows legs? Great plan, brain-boy." She swatted her neck, growling. "And these damn bugs—wind's full of 'em!"

"No bugs," Roen snapped, grabbing her arm to stop the flailing. "Focus—ships are circling, not blasting yet. They're scoping us." His architect's eye tracked them—patterns, loops, gaps. They weren't bombing flat-out; they wanted him dead, sure, but maybe alive first—proof for the family's ego.

A third ship fired—plasma streaking red—and hit the hub's wall. The stone shuddered, glowing blue flaring bright, absorbing the heat with a crackle. Dust sprayed, but it held—no breach. Roen's grin flickered, wild and raw. "See that? It's tougher than they think."

Liya's eyes widened, then she laughed, a ragged bark. "Hot damn—my tower's a badass!" She thumped the dais, grinning through the pain. "Keep it up, you ugly heap!"

The system chimed: Structural integrity at 80%. Energy reserves: 68%. Roen's grin faded—tough, yeah, but not invincible. Another hit like that, and they'd be dodging rubble. The ships tightened their arc—400 meters, cannons glowing—and his gut sank. They weren't playing anymore.

"Liya, slope side!" he yelled, shoving her toward the wrecked edge. "If they land troops, we bottleneck 'em there!" She limped over, sword up, her grin fading to a snarl. Roen ducked low, the hub's pulse syncing with his own—thump, thump—like it was daring the Kast bastards to try harder.

A ship swooped, 300 meters, and a hatch hissed open—ropes dropped, dark figures sliding down fast. Roen cursed—soldiers, not just cannons. "Ground assault—here we go!" He grabbed a loose rock, chucking it at the first rope—missed, but it clattered loud, drawing eyes.

Liya roared, charging the slope's rim despite her leg. "Come on, you hawk-faced shits!" Her blade slashed a rope—snap, a soldier fell, screaming—but three hit the ground, sprinting up, swords gleaming. Roen met the first, his bent sword clanging off armor, sparks flying. He ducked a thrust, slammed his shoulder into the guy's gut, and shoved—off the edge, gone.

Liya's swing caught another's arm, blood spurting, but the third tackled her, pinning her bad leg. She howled, thrashing, and Roen dove, smashing his rock into the soldier's helmet—crunch, down. He hauled her up, her breath hot and ragged on his neck.

"Leg's fucked," she gasped, leaning on him, but her grin stayed. "Still got four—keep up, kid!"

"Five," Roen grunted, shoving her behind the dais as another blast rocked the platform. The hub flared—blue light spiking—and a faint crackle hummed, static in the air. The lead ship, 200 meters out, wobbled, its engines stuttering.

Roen's eyes widened. "The field—it's still kicking!" The system pinged:

System Notification: Energy field interference active—low-level disruption detected. Fleet stability compromised: 10% reduction.

"Ten percent," Roen muttered, grinning grim. "Not much, but I'll take it." The ships pulled back, 300 meters, circling wider—wary now, not reckless. He felt the hub's pulse—thump, thump—a beast baring its fangs, buying them seconds.

Liya slumped against the dais, panting. "Kid, this thing's a lifesaver—literally." She swatted her arm, cursing. "Unlike this damn wind—bugs everywhere!"

"No bugs," Roen said, crouching beside her, his own breath ragged. "Just Kast assholes with deep pockets." He stared up, the ships looming, their cannons glowing again. Ten hours, fifty-five minutes—too long. His mind churned—architect's logic under fire. The hub was holding, disrupting, but they couldn't outlast a siege. He needed leverage, a way to hit back.

"Kid," Liya said, quieter, her grin gone, "we're bleeding out here—literally. What's the play?" Her hand shook on her sword, blood pooling under her leg.

Roen's jaw tightened, his eyes on the hub—its walls flexing, blue veins glowing fierce. "We hold," he said, voice hard. "This thing's waking up—it's our shot." He felt it—pride, fear, a flicker of something like hope. He'd died once under steel; he wasn't doing it again under Kast fire.

The lead ship fired—a red streak screaming in—and Roen dove, dragging Liya as the blast tore the dais's edge. The hub roared back, its pulse a defiance against the sky.