Chapter V Part II

“You,” he snarls. The stench of stale chemicals clings to him. His fingers curl around a short, gnarled staff strapped to his hip — a zap baton, buzzing faintly as he flicks it on. “How did you find me? I covered everything this time. Every trail burned, every test site turned to ash—”

I try to speak but my tongue won’t form the words. This is real. These people. The villagers. Twisted. Warped. And Veil…

The memories crash into place like shattered glass. Doctor Henlious Veil. One of the Shadowfell’s most fanatical disciples — a mad dwarf obsessed with breeding the perfect chimera, life twisted into living weapons. He first surfaced two years ago, deep in the Solarian wilds — same signature every time: whole villages vanished, search parties swallowed by a creeping fog, every trail scrubbed clean but never completely gone. The fog. The disappearances. The signs were all here. I should’ve seen it. I should’ve put it all together. Dammit.

But he was always a step ahead. Every time we got close — every lab we tracked through dirt and rumor — we’d find it torched to the ground, clues turned to ash before we could piece them together. All we ever had were the same whispers: fog creeping in, families vanishing, no one coming back.

The last time Papa and I found his trail was three months ago — another ruin, cold and empty. Papa’s been watching for Veil ever since, even as he’s spent more and more days away from home. Dammit, Nikko. The signs were all there. I should’ve connected the dots. I should’ve seen him coming. And now—

The baton slams into my chest. Pain tears through my ribs like a lightning bolt cracking bone. I clamp my teeth down, but a raw cry still bursts past my lips. Adam snarls — the chains clanking as he thrashes, helpless and furious.

“Leave her alone!” he shouts.

Veil flicks the baton away, the spark dying with a hiss. He turns to Adam, lip curling. “You. Stay out of this. I don’t know you. I don’t care for you. Unless you want your throat slit and your corpse fed to my chimeras,” he leans close, the T in shut snapping like a whip, “Then keep. Your. Mouth. Shut.”

He snaps the baton in Adam’s direction — but Adam meets his glare dead-on, teeth bared. My eyes dart to him, shaking my head. Don’t. Not for me. He sucks in a breath and forces himself to be still, muscles trembling.

Veil pivots back to me, that wild glint back in his eyes. “Where is he? Where is your father — that insufferable knight? My Uruks scoured the forest — they found nothing. So… is he not here? Hiding?”

My mouth stays shut. Not by choice — but by shame. This is my fault. I dragged Adam into this. I didn’t listen to Zeke. I didn’t trust him. Papa would’ve known better.

Veil’s snarl stretches into something gleeful. He jabs the baton into my ribs again. Agony blinds me, white-hot. My scream tears at my throat. Adam jerks against his chains, the old metal clanking in the silence.

“I’m supposed to kill you,” Veil hisses, leaning so close I see flecks of spittle on his beard. “The only thing that keeps your pathetic lungs pumping is that you have information I want. Where’s your precious home? Where he keeps his secrets. Where is it?”

I bare my teeth, breathless, trembling. “Screw you.” I spit — the glob lands on his cheek. Veil reels back, his snarl twisting his whole face. The baton cracks against my ribs — I feel it deep, searing. I choke on a sob, my vision swimming.

“I have ways to make you talk, kitten.” Veil wipes the spit from his cheek with a trembling hand. He snaps his fingers.

One of the Uruks shudders to life, the cannon-arm clicking. It stomps forward, the floor trembling under its weight, and presses the barrel to Adam’s temple. A faint whir builds in its core.

“Tell me,” Veil sneers. “Or his blood will paint my walls.”

“No! Please!” I thrash against the chains — they bite deeper into my wrists but don’t give. “Don’t — don’t hurt him — it’s me you want!”

But Adam doesn’t flinch. His eyes — usually full of that sly glint — are flinty stone now. He presses into the cannon, his voice low. “Do it. I’d rather die than help you.”

My throat clamps. Why is he doing this for me?

“Don’t be an idiot!” I shout, my voice raw. But he doesn’t budge. Veil’s face warps into something monstrous — rage and disbelief twined together. He snaps the baton across Adam’s ribs. The zap lights up the room — Adam grunts, head snapping back — but he doesn’t cry out. He glares at Veil, eyes hard, jaw locked.

Veil curses, teeth bared, then storms to the door. He throws it open so hard it rattles on its hinges. “Keep an eye on them!” he barks at the Uruks. They grunt in unison, cannon-arms shifting as they stand sentinel.

The door slams. Silence swells like poison.

I sag, chains groaning. “You idiot,” I whisper, tears hot at the corners of my eyes. “Why are you doing this?”

Adam’s grin is weak — but real. He rolls his shoulders as much as the chains allow. “Like hell I’m gonna let you soak up all the pain. I can take a few volts, princess.”

His breath hitches. A laugh bubbles up — broken, but defiant.

In the silence, the Uruks watch. And beyond the door, Veil’s shadow hangs over everything.

I twist in my chains, eyes scanning every inch of the lab for anything — anything — I can use. My gaze catches on the corner: an operating table, metal legs bolted to the floor, the surface slick with old, rust-brown blood. Beside it sits a battered steel tray crowded with instruments: scalpels, forceps, a small container bristling with syringes half-filled with murky fluid. Perfect. But first…

My eyes flick to the Uruks at the door — they stand like statues, cannon-arms humming faintly. I suck in a breath, shut my eyes, and reach. The cold hum of the lab’s power grid pulses through the walls, veins of raw energy that feel almost familiar under my mental touch. I find one light — overhead, its crystal casing embedded deep — and push. Harder. The current swells, wires groaning. The bulb starts to whine, then hum, then crackle.

Adam’s eyes snap to it, his brow arching. The Uruks shift, blinking up at the flickering light.

“Come on… look…” I whisper.

The light flares, a sudden blinding buzz — and for that heartbeat, their focus is torn. I seize it. My mind snaps to the tray. The container rattles — the scalpels shiver against glass — then flip free with a sharp clang. In the same breath, they streak through the air like angry wasps, each blade burying deep into the soft glow of an Uruk’s eye socket. One, two — a guttural roar — they collapse like felled trees, metal limbs scraping the floor.

Adam whistles low, half-smirked despite his ragged breath. “Well done, Miss Gold Rank.”

“Thanks,” I say, adrenaline making my voice a rasp. I let the small pride flicker. But the chains still dig into my wrists, biting bone. My gaze follows the links upward — thick iron hooked into an old beam sunk into cracked concrete. If I can’t break the chain… maybe I can take the ceiling with it.

Adam tugs at his own cuffs, wincing. “Not to spoil the mood, but we’re still stuck — and I don’t see any keys lying around.”

I hiss at him, closing my eyes again. “Shush. Let me concentrate.”

The hook is old, rusted through. I find the bolt sunk into crumbling mortar. I push — the chain vibrates, dust trickling onto my face. My arms burn, my focus tightening into a single point — Move. A sharp pop — then the hook tears free, the jolt sending me crashing to my feet. My boots hit the floor with a thud that rattles my teeth.

Adam grins, baring one sharp tooth. “Now we’re talking.”

I stagger over, reach for the second bolt. Adam braces, chains rattling as I tug with the Force. Another jolt — another crack — and he drops to his feet, knees bent to catch the impact.

He lifts his wrists, the steel bands still heavy around them. “So… about these?”

I smirk, holding up one hand. A flicker of orange light dances across my palm, the mana flame trembling but solid. “Hold still.”

He leans back, eyes wide. “You can’t be serious—”

“Do you want these chains off or not?” I growl. The flame pulses higher — but the sharp bang of the door slamming open cuts me off. I spin, snuffing the flame with a hiss.

Doctor Veil storms in, eyes wild and veins bulging at his temple. He carries a small steel tray with him — syringes clink in place, each one brimming with a foul, ink-black liquid that catches the lab lights like oil on water. Four more Uruks squeeze in behind him, cannons leveling at us with a low, droning hum. The door slams, sealing us in.

“You!” Veil snarls, spittle flecking his ragged beard. “You meddling vermin! All my work—!” His hands tremble so violently the tray slips from his grip, crashing to the floor. Glass shatters on impact, syringes bursting open — the black goo inside splatters across the cracked tile in sticky webs. The stench hits me like rotting meat soaked in acid, thick and cloying, crawling up my nose and coating my tongue like oil. It feels wrong — alive somehow.

Veil’s voice rips through the revulsion. “Kill them! Tear them to pieces!”

The Uruks jerk forward like puppets on frayed strings, their heavy shoulder plates scraping together — metal on metal, like tombstones grinding under shifting earth. Panic coils up my throat. My eyes flick around the lab — no windows, no vents, no Zeke. Not even a door cracked wide enough to slip through. If they dismantled Zeke—

But then the floor shakes — a low, gut-deep boom that rattles the light fixtures in their mounts. Another blast rolls through the walls, the vibrations so strong my chains shudder against my raw wrists. The Uruks hesitate mid-step, cannon-arms twitching side to side as something beyond that door tears through their ranks.

Veil’s eyes go wide, his breath hitching in his throat. “No—” he rasps, choking on the word like it’s poison. His wild gaze darts to the door, then to the ceiling — like he knows exactly who’s coming.

And I do too. The Force hums inside me, a sudden bright surge that pushes back the sour stink and the fear. That presence — brilliant, immovable, fierce as a star — slams into my senses like sunrise through old, dark trees.

Veil whips back to us, face contorting with rage. “All the evidence is gone — the research is gone! But I’ll get rid of you before he arrives!” He lunges forward, his boots scraping against shattered glass.

“Before who arrives?” Adam snaps, even as his chains rattle against the wall. Another muffled boom echoes — and this time, I hear it: the roar of the Uruks outside, cut short by wet, heavy thuds. Closer now. Closer with every heartbeat.

Veil rushes at me and Adam — but I whip my chained arms like a flail, metal links slicing the air and cracking across his cheek. The sound is sharp — a wet smack. He reels back, clutching his face as blood trickles down past his jawline, his eyes wide with shock and rage.

“You worthless little—!” He kicks at his Uruks, shoving their broad shoulders toward us. “Don’t just stand there, you dungheap rats! Kill them!” Spit flies from his lips, his voice cracked with hysteria.

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The Uruks lumber forward, cannon-arms humming as they level their barrels — but that presence barrels in now, so close it’s like a heartbeat in my chest. I taste ozone, feel the air shift — something huge and unstoppable.

And then the door doesn’t just open — it explodes inward. Heavy oak splinters shatter like thrown spears, raining down in jagged shards. Adam jerks back against the stone, eyes wide as plates. My chest seizes with raw, desperate relief.

Papa.

The Uruks spin, cannon-arms already spitting emerald fire down the smoking hall — but the bolts slam into a blade of yellow light, deflecting with a hiss and crack. The lab fills with the pulsing hum of a lightsaber — a blaze of gold that cleaves through the swirling haze.

There he stands — Ryu Chikara, my father. Dark layered robes wrap his tall frame, edges trimmed with that subtle gold piping that catches the saber’s glow. Over the robes, his battered Temple Guard armor fits like an old second skin — white plates dulled with age, cracked at the edges but strong as ever. His temple mask, streaked with a faded sigil, hides his face — but I feel those eyes lock on us like twin suns. Unyielding. And for the first time since this nightmare began, I feel safe.

His yellow lightsaber hums with each movement, a seamless dance of slashes and deflections. Every bolt fired at him whips back on its owner — the Uruks stagger and drop, black metal sizzling where the deflected shots pierce them straight through the chest. The last one crashes to its knees, smoking.

Veil squeals like a stuck boar, wild eyes rolling. He rips a knife from a sheath, spots me and Adam still chained, and lunges — desperation driving him forward.

He freezes midair. No sound — just an ugly wet choking noise. Veil’s boots dangle inches above the blood-streaked floor, the knife slipping from his grip, clattering away.

Papa steps forward, yellow blade low, his free hand raised and steady. His cloak, draped over his shoulder, shifts with each step like a living shadow.

“Found you,” he growls, voice echoing behind the mask’s grill.

Beside me, Adam plants himself half in front of me, shoulders squared even though his hands are still shackled. “Nikko — wh-who the hell is that?” His voice trembles, but his feet don’t move.

Papa doesn’t answer Adam. His eyes flick to me — relief and restrained anger mingling like oil and fire. “Nikko,” he murmurs, his voice the closest thing to soft I’ve heard tonight. “Glad to see you’re not hurt.”

He closes his fingers with a quick flick — the shackles on my wrists and Adam’s pop open at once, chains dropping with a dull clang. I rub my raw wrists, blinking back the tears that want to spill.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Dad,” I whisper.

Adam’s eyes dart from me to Papa — taking in the black robes, the battered armor, the mask that hides everything but those eyes. “That’s your father?” he breathes, disbelief cracking his voice.

Papa’s only answer is to turn his attention back to Veil — the dwarf still suspended in the air, choking on his own breath. The lightsaber’s glow paints Veil’s sweat-slick face in gold and shadow.

“We have a lot to discuss,” Papa rumbles.

But Veil’s lips twist into a cracked grin. “I…have served. I am… of service,” He groans. Then, he shows his teeth — then bites down hard. Snap. His eyes roll. White foam froths at his mouth as he spasms in the air.

“No —” I whisper. Papa drops him. Veil’s corpse hits the blood-slick floor with a dull finality. Cyanide, hidden beneath a false tooth.

Papa’s shoulders slump — just for a breath — before they square again. The lightsaber hisses closed, the yellow blade retreating into the hilt at his belt. He crosses his arms over his chest, the cracked plates of his old Temple Guard armor shifting like old bones. I can feel the storm building behind that mask. Not just anger at Veil — but at me.

“Dad, please, before you say anything—”

“I am so disappointed in you, Nikko,” he snaps, his voice loud enough to make Adam flinch. “I taught you better than this. What were you thinking?!”

Adam pushes forward a half step, chains still rattling at his feet. “Hold on. It wasn’t just Nikko’s idea — if anyone’s to blame—”

Papa’s masked gaze swings to him like a blade. “You. Keep quiet, Adam Cole. I know my daughter lied to Felicity. I know she accepted a diamond-level quest she wasn’t ready for. I don’t need your excuses for her.”

Adam’s mouth shuts with an audible click. But I feel it — the protective edge, the way he shifts a little closer, shoulder brushing mine. He’s trying.

Papa’s eyes pin me to the wall like knives. “Well?” he demands.

My ears flatten, my tail droops to wrap around my ankle. “I’m sorry, Dad. I-I just… wanted to prove I’m capable.”

“By charging into something you couldn’t handle?” His voice cracks, low and furious. “By dragging him with you? You could’ve died, Nikko. Both of you. Or worse.” He doesn’t have to say what worse looks like. The ruined vats and the corpses behind him say it for him.

Papa raises his wrist, speaking into his concealed comm. “AP-5 — ready the Crucible.”

“Understood,” the pilot droid’s voice crackles back, echoing in the halls.

He glances at us one last time. “Let’s go. And we are not done talking, missy.”

My stomach knots. Missy. When he calls me that, it’s worse than a thousand shouted words.

Adam nudges my shoulder with his — the smallest brush. I glance at him, expecting sarcasm. But there’s just that small, pained smile. I’ve got you, it says, without him having to say it.

Papa leads, his steps echoing in the lifeless lab. We pass the rows of cells, barred and open now, each one a frozen moment of horror. Bodies — villagers, adventurers — lie half-melded to the walls, limbs warped or fused together in ways flesh was never meant to bend. Some look almost peaceful. Others… don’t.

I bite down so hard on my tongue I taste blood. This is my fault. If I’d listened. If planned ahead. The incinerator roars in the corner, the last scraps of Veil’s experiments crackling into black ash. All those lives — nothing left to bury.

Outside, the sunlight catches the field of slaughter. The fog is gone. Blaster scoring marks the dirt in charred lines. Uruk bodies sprawl in grotesque piles, their cannon arms torn free or shattered by precise strikes. Papa’s work. I shiver at the thought: so precise, so final. I wish I had that kind of strength. Maybe then no one would’ve died.

The Crucible sits just outside the tree line, its silver hull gleaming like polished bone in the pale light. The sleek Nabooian curves feel almost mocking, too elegant against the wreckage behind us. Adam’s eyes widen, his mouth half-open like he wants to ask a thousand questions — but he glances at Papa’s broad back, then at my lowered ears, and stays silent.

At the landing ramp, DP-8 hovers, its single optic flicking red. Next to him stands Apollo — fully armored, the steel plates forged in Papa’s hands to echo the old Mandalorian style. His T-shaped visor gives nothing away, arms crossed over his broad chest, cape draping behind him like a shadow.

DP-8 flies towards me, beeping ecstatically “Are you okay? Are you injured anywhere?”

I simply manage a “We’re fine, DP-8.”

Apollo doesn’t say anything. He turns to Papa and says “The villagers have been informed. They will be here soon to collect their dead. I contacted the guild too. Do we stay here to report?” He asks.

Papa shakes his head. “No. We are leaving,” He states, his tone cold and unforgiving.

I swallow. “Whe-where’s Zeke?” I manage, my voice so small I hate how it sounds.

Papa doesn’t even break stride up the ramp. “Back home,” he mutters, as if the word is an order.

He lifts his wrist again, voice sharp. “AP-5. Power up the Crucible. Take us to Arroyo first.”

“Understood,” the pilot droid responds from the cockpit, its voice calm — a cold contrast to the crackling guilt in my chest.

Inside, the soft gold lighting of the galley feels like a lie — a warmth I don’t deserve. Apollo and DP-8 vanish into the lift that hums toward the bridge. It’s just me, Adam, and Papa now. Papa leans against the galley bulkhead, arms folded, masked gaze fixed on me like a wall I can’t climb.

I brace for it — the anger, the disappointment, the storm that’s been brewing since the second he kicked that door in.

Adam shifts a little closer on the galley bench, his shoulder pressing mine — a wordless anchor in the hush of the Crucible’s hum. But Papa’s mask turns on him, and even Adam shrinks like a scolded child. He inches away, eyes on the deck.

Papa doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t need to. One word — flat as a blade.

“Talk.”

Adam tries first, forcing a grin that flickers. “Well, funny story, actually — I was in this alley doing my—”

Papa’s masked head snaps to him. His voice is frost. “Not you. I mean my daughter.”

Adam shuts up so fast his teeth click. I swallow. The words crowd my throat. Then they tumble out.

“I went to Arroyo for errands,” I begin, my voice shaking. “Groceries. The cake from Erza. Picking up your order from Elara’s forge.”

The sting rises, bright and raw.

“But nobody cared that it was me there. Elara didn’t even look at me — just asked where you were. Estelle wanted to hear your stories. Faelan looked behind me like you’d walk in any second. Even Erza’s bakery didn’t bother to say my name.”

I press a hand to my ribs, as if that can keep it all in.

“I stood there — in those shops, with people I’ve known my whole life — and all they saw was your shadow. Not me. Just the girl who fetches your orders.”

Papa’s mask doesn’t move. But Adam’s gaze darts to me, his shoulders tense.

“So when I saw that Diamond rank quest…” My tail flicks low, ears drooping. “I thought maybe if I did something big, they’d finally see me. Not just your daughter.”

The memory of Veil’s lab crashes in — the cells, the broken bodies. My hands tremble.

“But I failed,” I whisper. “Those people — the captives. They’re dead because I wasn’t strong enough. If I’d been smarter, stronger, I could have saved them. Instead I walked us right into Veil’s trap.”

I choke on the weight of it. “I wanted to prove I was as strong as you. That I could stand beside you.”

Papa’s arms stay folded — but the tension in them shifts. He steps forward, the old Temple Guard armor creaking, the long dark robe brushing the deck plates. He kneels so his masked face meets my eyes.

“Nikko,” he says — my name, softer than it has any right to be. “You think I’m disappointed because you’re not as strong as me?”

I nod. “You were so much stronger at my age. You lifted starships. You destroyed the Shadowfell. I can’t even keep calm in a real fight without panicking.”

Papa lets out a slow breath — a sound I’ve only ever heard when he’s about to say something that hurts to remember.

“You want to know where that power came from?” he asks. His hand rests on the table beside mine. Steady. Solid.

“My strength didn’t come from training alone. It came from pain. My Master — he didn’t teach me like I taught you. He broke me. Every day, every night — no food, no water, no sleep. He beat the weakness out of me. He dumped me on hostile worlds with nothing but my fists and my hate. And when I survived, he made me do it again. And again.”

The words hang heavy in the galley’s quiet. Even Adam looks like he wants to sink through the deck.

Papa’s voice lowers, the faint hum of the Crucible’s engines vibrating through the bench.

“All that anger, that fear — that’s what I drew on when I lifted walkers and stopped starships midair. My Master forged me into a blade — but every cut I made cost me something I’ll never get back.”

He rests his hand on my shoulder, the weight of it an anchor I didn’t know I needed.

“I never wanted that for you.”

I blink, the tears welling so fast they blur the lines of his mask.

“You are strong, Nikko. Stronger than you know — because your strength doesn’t come from pain. It comes from your heart. Your compassion. Your hope. You heal. You forgive. You protect people who don’t deserve it, because you believe they can be better.”

My lip trembles. “But the captives—”

Papa’s grip tightens just enough to ground me.

“Those people in Veil’s cells were already gone, Nikko. Veil’s experiments — they twisted them into monsters. I saw what he did. There was no bringing them back. That is his sin to carry, not yours.”

I choke on a sob. “But I—”

“No,” he says, voice firm now — the voice that once commanded armies. “You cannot drown in guilt for evil you didn’t make. Veil’s cruelty was already done. You did what you could with what you knew. You’ll learn from it. You’ll grow stronger — not through hate like me, but through the good you hold onto.”

His thumb brushes a tear from my cheek.

“I am not disappointed in you because you’re not like me. I’m disappointed because you forgot that you never had to prove your worth to me. Ever.”

He lifts my chin with two fingers, so I can’t hide.

“You are not my shadow, Nikko. You are my light. I am so proud of the person you’ve become. And I will always love you. Every piece of you.”

That last line shatters whatever I was holding in. I lunge forward, burying my face into his robes, the Temple Guard armor hard and warm under my palms. The tears spill out in hot, messy rivers.

“I love you too, Papa,” I cry. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He holds me tight, like a wall that nothing can break. Not the darkness. Not the past. Not my fear.

Adam sits silent, watching — and I feel his small smile, that quiet understanding.

I may never lift a starship. I may never stop an army alone. But maybe that’s okay.

Because I’m Nikko — not his shadow.

His light.

And for now… that’s enough.