Chapter 4 part 1

### The Most Fearsome Beings

There exists in this vast galaxy a category of life so fearsome, their very existence ripples dread across entire star systems. Among these terrors, there are cosmic predators whose reputation rivals any nightmare from the shadowed corners of the void.

To frame it in terms dredged from the strange echoes of memory lodged somewhere deep in my mind, they’re akin to some monstrosity called a Deviljho—a creature so inherently dangerous that its mere presence shifts the balance of life around it. Yes, the universe has its own share of horrors like that.

Take, for instance, the Stellar Mantis, an apex predator that previously killed two guildsmen from the "Blade of the Void" crew.

Stellar Mantises haunt the dwarf planets and satellites that lie between the Lunatran Empire and the Holy Solar Commonwealth of Solflare. Despite its inability to traverse hyperspace, it dominates the sector, an unmatched hunter that can decimate starships with the sheer lethality of its scythe-like appendages.

The Mantis earned its infamy with ease—its quantum-hardened carapace shrugs off conventional blasters, forcing combatants to wield specialized weapons like plasma flails or beam-enhanced vibroblades just to pierce its armor.

And yet, the *Blade of the Void* somehow succeeded in slaying one. That trophy—its severed quantum scythe—now hangs proudly in the flagship’s hall, a testament to their impossible feat.

Thinking back, I’d guess it’s been ten revolution cycles since anyone last brought down one of these apex terrors.

That victory was nothing short of legendary. Solflare engineers even used the encounter to refine their own arsenal of beam-enhanced physical weapons, crafting tools explicitly to combat monstrosities like the Stellar Mantis.

Yet the Mantis is not the only monster haunting nearby sectors. Far deeper, amidst the shadowed expanse of the Lymcuil Oort Cloud, there drifts another abomination: the Stellar Citadel.

Despite its grandiose name, the Citadel is essentially a vast, space-dwelling organism—a colossal, star-shaped behemoth resembling some unholy hybrid of starfish and battle fortress.

Its hull serves as the breeding ground for colonies of parasitic creatures, particularly the dreaded Radiation Wasps, which swarm from its bulk to attack passing ships.

Their sting delivers a burst of radiation potent enough to melt through hull plating, and while the wasps themselves are small—each about the size of a human forearm—their hivemind coordination is a terror to behold.

The Citadel moves through space via fields of biomechanical tentacles, propelling it across the dark like a living dreadnought. However, its true power lies in its expansion ability, allowing it to absorb dark energy and exponentially increase its mass.

When fully expanded, it becomes a fortress of unimaginable scale, raining devastating energy barrages while its wasps swarm, overwhelming even the sturdiest fleets.

Its Achilles’ heel? The expanded form is vulnerable to focused plasma blades—Lunatran long beam sabers and plasma halberds are particularly effective in close combat.

But of course, locating the Citadel amidst the endless Oort Cloud and eliminating it entirely? That’s a fool’s errand. It is said they number too many to count in those frozen depths.

And these terrors—the Mantis, the Citadel—are just the nightmares that lurk near the station's borders. Beyond lies the great unknown: elder space dragons whose scales defy physics, planet-sized biomechanical constructs that seem to breathe, and celestial leviathans that consume moons like crumbs.

For those of us stationed on Baldr, however, such threats remain largely the concern of deep-space expeditions and desperate bounty hunters. The average spacer here is unlikely to encounter anything more terrifying than a faulty plasma torch.

Yet not all horrors in the galaxy come in monstrous forms. Sometimes, the most fearsome beings wear the guise of sophistication.

Ask anyone on Baldr what species commands the most fear, and they’d name the same thing without hesitation: the Noble Houses of the Core Worlds.

"Is this the Baldr branch of the Spacefarer’s Guild?"

Her voice rang out like tempered steel—sharp, controlled, and utterly commanding.

She had entered during the solar minimum, when fewer ships dared venture out. At first glance, I thought she might be just another wanderer displaced by resource shortages or colonial failure, but no. She was anything but.

This woman was conspicuously well-equipped—no, *exceptionally* well-equipped.

Her obsidian-black hair was immaculate, not a strand out of place. Gene-enhanced eyes glowed faintly blue, tracing the guild hall with calculated precision. Her power armor gleamed with a finish too pristine for anything but the highest-grade craftsmanship, unmarred by so much as a scratch. Strapped to her back was a plasma sword so exquisitely made that it practically radiated menace, a weapon far beyond the reach of any common weaponsmith.

"I am Stella," she announced. "A wandering blade, passing through on my travels. I wish to register with the guild. Please process my application."

The receptionist, Mirai, swallowed hard, her usual calm visibly fraying.

"Stella, is it? Do you have a House designation?"

Stella’s expression remained stony. "Common spacers don’t have House names. That should be obvious."

"R-right. Of course." Mirai fumbled slightly as she typed. "And your listed occupation is... blade-for-hire?"

"Correct. My combat programming is classified."

"Programming... naturally."

I watched from the lounge, observing the exchange with mild amusement.

On the holo-table before me was an ongoing game of Stellar Reversi, my opponent Aioi periodically glancing at the unfolding scene with a sullen expression. Her sharp eyes gave her an edge in the game—at least, that’s what I told myself every time she captured another neutron corner.

"Should we recalibrate the table?" I asked, more to break the tension than anything else.

Aioi didn’t look up. "Do what you want. Just don’t interrupt during my turn, ’kay?"

With nothing better to do, we were killing time playing Stellar Reversi in the mercenary guild’s space lounge.

It had started as a way to stave off boredom, but Aioi’s freakishly strong strategic play was beginning to wear me down.

"Strange. Isn't Stellar Reversi a game where you just capture corners?" I muttered under my breath. Somehow, she made it seem like far more than that.

"Mr. Narwhal, you’ve shifted conspicuously far away. What’s with that person?"

I glanced at the figure in question and replied through our secure comms instead of speaking directly, my voice low. "She’s Core World, no question about it."

"A Core Worlder…"

"Yeah. We get them sometimes—the restless ones. The kind who get bored of their automated utopias and decide to try their luck in the Frontier Zones. A sort of… ‘vacation from comfort,’ I guess."

She scowled as I casually flipped one of the pieces on the holo-board. "And they choose to become mercenaries? Of all things? Mister, could you stop *flipping* those already?"

"Oops, my bad," I said, though it wasn’t. My focus was elsewhere. "Their gear is nano-enhanced, and their behavior screams ‘Core Worlder.’ Rim folk just don’t act or equip themselves like that. They’re trouble, so don’t go sticking your neck out where it doesn’t belong."

"Trouble? Shouldn’t we be trying to curry favor with Core Worlders instead?"

I smirked faintly, not looking up from the reversi-board. "Only if you’re one of them—or a Trade Empire merchant. For us Rim folk? It’s usually more hassle than it’s worth. Trust me."

"These types only show up out here when they’re bored of sipping ambrosia in their climate-controlled palaces during the dark season. Or when they’re overconfident about their specs." I lowered my voice further. "And in her case? It’s both." The woman’s lack of an escort was telling. No combat droids hovered in her shadow—a rarity for Core Worlders who usually traveled surrounded by machines. Either her combat prowess was formidable, or she had deliberately disabled her droids to send a message. Judging by the way she moved, I’d bet on both.

Around the guild lounge, other spacers seemed to reach the same conclusion. Stella’s presence silenced the usual raucous atmosphere. No one dared crack a joke or risk an offhand comment. This was the kind of crowd that usually found amusement in petty scuffles, like someone messing up the atmospheric pressure when entering the airlock, but not today. Not with her. Even the rowdiest among them suddenly found reasons to stay quiet, pretending she didn’t exist. That was all the proof anyone needed: she was bad news.

"I wish to take on a xeno beast elimination contract," Stella said, her tone calm yet commanding.

Someone actually laughed under their breath—an unfortunate reflex. I resisted the urge to groan.

Did she not realize what season it was? "Hey, genius," I muttered to myself. "It’s the dark phase. No one’s hunting anything right now."

Mirai, to her credit, kept her voice professional. "Apologies, but there are currently no urgent xeno beast contracts available."

Stella tilted her head slightly, clearly dissatisfied. "Hmm. Is that so? Surely the space pests haven’t gone extinct, have they?"

Mirai’s fingers hovered nervously over the console. "While some Space Pests like Skreeks may be hibernating deep within the Asteroid Belt, scanning for them during the dark phase would be… difficult. And it would hardly justify the fuel expense. I’m afraid we couldn’t authorize bounty payments for that."

Stella frowned, her gene-enhanced eyes glowing faintly as she processed the information. She didn’t even bother inquiring about other contracts. Instead, she muttered something under her breath before sighing.

...With Bronze-class certification, you should be doing more basic escort runs. I know that's not why you came to this far-away Baldr station, but still.

"Very well. For today, I shall simply register my bio-signature. I’ll return during the next stellar cycle."

Mirai nodded, clearly relieved. "A-all right. Safe travels."

Without another word, Stella turned and exited the guild hall. The airlock hissed as it began its decompression cycle, and the tension that had gripped the room finally started to ease.

As soon as the heavy doors sealed shut, the spacers around the lounge let out collective sighs of relief.

Even Mirai, typically unflappable, looked visibly drained. This kind of interaction is something most Rim people aren't used to, and is not easily handled.

"That was rough," I said, flashing her a wry grin.

She exhaled sharply. "It’s just part of station duty," she replied, though her tired expression belied her words.

"There’s been more of them lately," one of the crew muttered. "These types, coming out here to play space adventurer."

"Yeah, three cycles back, we had another one dock," another spacer chimed in.

"They think it’s some thrill ride. Makes you wonder what they’re really after."

But no one dared say the term "Core Worlder" aloud—not even here.

Gossiping about such things was dangerous enough, but if someone’s neural feed picked up a stray transmission? That could spell trouble. Realistically, the consequences wouldn’t be catastrophic, but even a minor grudge from a Core Worlder could upend lives out here in the Rim. Better to maintain radio silence.

Aioi broke the quiet first. "Somehow, the atmosphere was different."

I nodded. "Yeah. It’s like every word or move we make is being logged. You know they get a kick out of flashing their Noble House IDs if something goes wrong. But for us Rim folk? It’s a threat, plain and simple."

She smirked faintly. "Noble House IDs, huh? Hey, Mr. Narwhal, stop flipping those pieces already."

"Oops. My bad."

"You’re doing it on purpose," she muttered. "Anyway, just admit defeat already."

I sighed, leaning back in my seat. "Wanna power down the board?"

"You’re just salty that your so-called foolproof algorithm didn’t work," she shot back. "Fine. I give up. But seriously, I thought I could win."

I shook my head, chuckling. "Rookie mistake. Stellar Reversi isn’t just about cornering the neutron tiles. Not when you’re up against someone optimized for this kind of thing since they were a zygote."

Aioi leaned forward, her expression unusually serious. "Oh, and by the way—watch yourself around that Core Worlder. You never know what kind of protocols they might execute on you."

Her words weren’t lost on me. If Stella had so much as drawn her plasma blade earlier and muttered "wretched Rim folk," I could’ve been dead before anyone had time to react.

Out here in the Rim, without the Empire’s protection, even a minor grudge from the Core could end you.

"Core Worlders really are terrifying," Aioi murmured.

I nodded slowly. "Hold on to that fear. It’ll keep you alive. Just… don’t forget it."

She grinned suddenly, the serious mood broken. "By the way, since I won, you’re buying me food and drinks. Deal?"

I groaned. "Tch. You remembered, huh?"