Chapter 37: He Must Pay

Aboard the Narak’Tharr, life had slowly returned to normal after their departure from Drakar IV. On the surface, everything seemed routine—flight schedules, Kryna’s analyses, planning future missions. Yet, beneath it all, a lingering tension hung in the air. Within the confined space of the Kael’tarien ship, unspoken words drifted between Evelyn and Vykhor, lingering like an invisible presence, caught between their recent past and the uncertainties ahead.

Evelyn, ever hungry for knowledge, sought refuge in long discussions with Kryna. The AI, with its precise, clinical logic, fed her insatiable mind with information about the Narak’Tharr’s advanced systems, interstellar navigation, and even combat strategies. It was her way of regaining control, of countering the storm raging within her since their mission on Drakar IV.

But while Evelyn buried herself in data and calculations, Vykhor had only one thought haunting him.

Kharok.

The traitor.

The man who had jeopardized their mission, who had nearly cost Evelyn her life—along with so many others.

Vykhor wasn’t a man who trusted easily. He had learned, over the years, that every alliance could be shattered under the weight of well-placed betrayal. Kharok was living proof of that—for now. But not for long. His fate had already been sealed.

Vykhor had insisted they watch the traitor’s trial. Evelyn, disturbed by the idea, had tried to avoid facing the harsh reality of military justice. But Vykhor hadn’t given her a choice.

"You need to see this world for what it really is, Evelyn," he had told her, his voice implacable. "The dangers, the betrayals… and their consequences."

Evelyn knew he was right. This wasn’t a world of principles and benevolent laws where justice followed a predictable, fair path. No—here, justice was brutal, swift. It depended on those who enforced it, not on some distant ideal.

So, she sat beside Vykhor in the command room, her gaze locked on the holographic screen broadcasting the makeshift tribunal on Drakar IV.

A part of her wondered if she would walk away from this unchanged. But another part already knew—it was too late to turn back. She was part of this universe now.

From the Narak’Tharr’s bridge, Vykhor and Evelyn watched as Kharok’s trial unfolded on the holographic display. The projected image showed the large hall of the improvised tribunal, where the former mercenary, shackled and kneeling, faced the rebel council led by Janis Voren. The air was thick with silence, broken only by the colonel’s deep voice as he opened the session.

"Kharok, former mercenary, found guilty of treason against the resistance of Drakar IV, espionage for Kryon, and endangering our forces. Today, we grant you the opportunity to defend yourself before your sentence is delivered. Do you have anything to say?"

Kharok lifted his head, his eyes tired yet still filled with silent contempt.

"Defend what, Voren?" he scoffed. "You really think you’ve won anything? One tyrant dies, another takes his place. That’s how the galaxy works. Your pretty little ideas about freedom? They’re illusions."

Voren clenched his fists but didn’t rise to the provocation. "So you feel no remorse for your actions?"

Kharok let out a bitter chuckle. "Remorse? I knew exactly what I was doing. I wanted to be on the winning side. I just bet on the wrong one."

Evelyn, who had remained silent, felt her stomach twist at the traitor’s cynicism. She knew this world was ruthless, but seeing someone so coldly assume their betrayal sent a shiver through her.

Beside her, Vykhor remained impassive, arms crossed, his piercing gaze locked onto the hologram. He had seen men like Kharok before. They lived only for themselves, ready to betray at the first opportunity. The only things they respected were fear and strength.

Voren turned to the assembly and spoke. "We have heard the accused. His actions have cost lives, and without our mercenary allies, we might have lost this war. Before we render judgment, we will hear from those who fought alongside us. Vykhor Kael’seth, as the leader of the mercenary unit that aided the resistance, your opinion is welcome."

All eyes turned to Vykhor through the screen. Evelyn watched his expression, already knowing what he would say. He was never a man of hesitation or compromise.

The Kael’tarien spoke in a calm, unyielding voice. "There is only one sentence for betrayal, Voren. Death."

A chill swept through the room. If some rebels had still been unsure of Kharok’s fate, it was clear Vykhor saw no other alternative.

"Traitors like him are a permanent threat. You let him live today, and tomorrow, he’ll align with another tyrant, another power. He will stab you in the back, again and again. A mercenary can be an ally, an enemy, or a traitor. Those who betray must be eliminated."

Evelyn felt her heart clench. She didn’t like the idea of an execution, yet deep down, she knew Vykhor was right. In this world, where alliances shifted in an instant and betrayal could doom an entire revolution, there was no room for illusions of mercy.

Voren nodded slowly, as if expecting that response. "Vykhor Kael’seth, your words have been heard. We will now proceed with the final vote."

Evelyn averted her gaze from the screen, her stomach tight. She said nothing, but her mind was in turmoil. This trial, this execution… It only reminded her how far removed this world was from the one she had once known.

Vykhor, however, remained steadfast. He placed a hand on Evelyn’s shoulder, a touch that was both possessive and reassuring. She needed to get used to this. She was part of this world now. And with Project Ashcroft still looming over her, she would have to face much worse than the sentencing of a traitor.

Vykhor allowed Evelyn to leave the room before the execution. She wasn’t ready to witness such brutality yet, and he wouldn’t force her. Not this time.

But he stayed.

He wanted to watch.

He needed to make sure Kharok received the punishment he deserved. He needed to close this chapter for good.

He didn’t feel satisfaction, nor some twisted excitement at the thought of watching an execution—even that of a traitor. For Vykhor, it was simply necessary. In this world, there was no place for clemency toward those who endangered their own allies. Kharok had betrayed their trust, sold out their position, nearly cost Evelyn her life. There would be no forgiveness, no redemption. Only justice.

On the screen, the central square of Drakar IV was packed. The rebels, weary of battle, weary of survival—but finally free—stood in silence, witnessing the final act of their uprising. Janis Voren, standing beside the executioner, delivered the verdict in a strong, unwavering voice.

"Kharok, found guilty of high treason and collaboration with Lord Kryon, is sentenced to death."

No plea, no protest came from the man kneeling on the scaffold. He knew it was over. His once-arrogant, hardened features were now marked by resignation.

The axe fell in an almost surreal silence.

Vykhor didn’t blink. His expression remained impassive as the lifeless body crumpled onto the bloodstained wood. One last breath, one last betrayal erased from existence.

As the transmission ended, the holographic image flickering out one last time, Vykhor allowed himself a faint smile. Not one of satisfaction. A cold, determined smile.

Anyone who dared harm Evelyn would pay.

One way or another.

And he would never regret it.

He was ready to do whatever it took to protect her.

Even the worst.

**Somewhere in the Galaxy**

The hall was vast, its size deceptive, where the heavy silence echoed against walls worn by time. Once adorned with vibrant frescoes, remnants of a flourishing civilization, they were now nothing more than faded relics, marked by the dust of centuries long past. Broken pillars lay scattered at their feet like forgotten bones, adding to the spectral atmosphere of the place.

Two figures, cloaked in long hooded robes, moved silently through this scene of a bygone era. Their steps were careful, as if unwilling to disturb the fallen sanctuary, and yet, their mere presence claimed the space with quiet authority. At first glance, they could have been mistaken for wandering priests on a pilgrimage.

The truth was far from that.

One of the men, his aura undeniably dominant, walked with a measured confidence, every movement steeped in absolute control. A master of all things, and over all. Beside him strode his loyal strategist, his silent shadow—Darhal.

And when the Master spoke, Darhal listened.

"So, Darhal, what is your opinion on Evelyn Ashcroft?"

The question lingered in the stagnant air for a moment, and Darhal, ever methodical, took his time before responding. His Master tolerated neither haste nor imprecision.

"She has already progressed tremendously since she began traveling with Vykhor Kael’seth."

Silence. Then, a low chuckle rose from beneath the Master’s hood. He savored every word, every observation that confirmed what he already knew.

"Yes…" His voice stretched through the ruins’ echoes. "She has learned far faster than I would have expected."

That was an exquisite surprise. He had known she would adapt. He had known that her potential surpassed human standards. But never had he anticipated that she would exceed even his own expectations. Evelyn Ashcroft, far from being just another pawn, was proving to be an even greater prize than he had foreseen.

Darhal, ever the perceptive observer, added in a neutral tone:

"I believe the Kael’tarien has been a good influence on her."

The Master allowed a faint, almost imperceptible smile to curve his lips beneath the shadows of his hood.

"You are right." His voice dropped into a knowing murmur. "I think we should let her stay with him a while longer. After all, this plan is far older than she is… We can afford to be patient. Everything is unfolding as it should."

Darhal gave a slight nod, fully grasping the weight of those words.

"You are right."

A knowing silence settled between them as they continued their path.

In the darkness of the ruins, only the Master knew just how far this patience would take them.