For days, Saiphee and Vantheos had immersed themselves in relentless preparation—meticulous planning, intense combat training, and strategic calculations. Every moment was spent refining their skills, ensuring that no detail was overlooked. The mission assigned to them was no ordinary task; it required precision, discipline, and an unwavering focus.

Word of their deployment to Earth spread rapidly across the Space Station, igniting whispers and speculation among its inhabitants. It wasn’t just another mission; it was something of great significance, one that set them apart. As they braced themselves for the journey ahead, the weight of their responsibility settled heavily on their shoulders. Yet, despite the uncertainty, they were resolute, ready to face whatever challenges awaited them on the distant planet below. 

"Strange..." Saiphee muttered under his breath, his thoughts swirling with confusion. Is Vantheos always like this on missions? So... quiet? Just days ago, he had been his usual self—friendly, teasing, always finding a way to lighten the mood with his sharp wit and playful remarks. But now, that side of him seemed to have vanished, replaced by an almost unsettling silence.

Saiphee stole a glance at him, studying his expression. Vantheos wasn’t just quiet—he was distant, almost unreadable. At times, he seemed focused, locked into the mission with a deadly seriousness that made sense given the gravity of their task. But then, in fleeting moments, his gaze would soften, his lips parting as if he were about to say something—only for him to retreat back into silence, shutting himself off once more.

It was disorienting. One moment, he felt like the Vantheos he knew was still there, just beneath the surface. The next, he was a stranger—cold, detached, and unreadable. Saiphee couldn't tell if this was just his way of coping with the weight of the mission or if something deeper was at play. Either way, it left him with a nagging uncertainty, making him question whether he should reach out or simply give Vantheos the space he seemed to be demanding. 

Saiphee knew he couldn’t keep avoiding this—he had to talk to Vantheos. The shift in his behavior was too obvious to ignore, and if there was something going on, Saiphee wanted to understand.

He took a step forward, making his way toward Vantheos, who was seated at the information panels, completely absorbed in analyzing Earth’s statistics. His expression was unreadable, eyes flicking over the data with unwavering focus. It was as if nothing else existed in that moment—just him and the mission.

"Hey—" Saiphee began, his voice cutting through the hum of the monitors.

But before he could get another word out, a voice called from across the room.

"Vantheos!"

It was Quartz.

The call instantly pulled Vantheos’s attention away. For a split second, he turned his head, his gaze briefly meeting Saiphee’s. There was recognition—acknowledgment—but it was fleeting. Before Saiphee could say anything more, Vantheos was already shifting his focus, turning away as Quartz’s request took priority.

Saiphee exhaled, feeling the weight of the unfinished conversation settle in his chest. He had been noticed, sure—but whether Vantheos had actually been willing to listen was another question entirely. For now, it seemed like whatever he had to say would have to wait.

Quartz approached the two of them with a firm yet neutral expression, his voice steady as he spoke.

"The Madams are calling for you both," he announced, his gaze shifting between Saiphee and Vantheos. "ASAP."

Saiphee raised an eyebrow at the urgency in Quartz’s tone. He reached up, adjusting the ponytail that had been keeping his hair out of his face for the past few days. Stray strands had started to slip loose, and the constant need to fix it was becoming a mild annoyance.

"Why?" he asked, tilting his head slightly in curiosity.

Quartz folded his arms. "For acknowledgment," he explained. "You are required to meet with them before your departure. It is tradition—they will offer their blessings and best wishes for your journey to Earth."

Saiphee nodded slowly, processing the information. It made sense. The Madams held a position of great respect, and receiving their acknowledgment was an important step before undertaking such a significant mission.

"I see…" he murmured before straightening up. "Alright. Lead the way."

As he turned his attention to Vantheos, he noticed that his companion was already on his feet, standing at attention. There was no hesitation in his stance—he was ready to go. Saiphee couldn't help but wonder if Vantheos had been expecting this summons all along. Without another word, the three of them set off toward their next destination.

As they ventured deeper into the space station, Saiphee couldn’t shake the feeling of unease creeping up his spine. He had never set foot in this part of the station before—it was unfamiliar, almost labyrinthine, with twisting corridors and dimly lit passageways that seemed to stretch endlessly. The deeper they went, the more the atmosphere changed.

It felt… secure. No, more than that. It felt protected.

Every corner had a camera, each one subtly tracking their movements. The walls, sleek and reinforced, seemed to hum with a quiet energy, as if the very structure of the station was alive, monitoring, analyzing. It wasn’t just a hallway—it was a fortress, a place meant to be shielded from the outside world.

Saiphee glanced at Vantheos, who remained as composed as ever, his expression unreadable. Has he been here before? He certainly didn’t seem surprised by their surroundings.

Finally, Quartz came to a stop, his posture straightening as he turned to face them.

"We’re here," he announced, his tone shifting into something more serious, more formal.

Before them stood a massive door—towering, imposing, its dark metallic surface adorned with intricate engravings that pulsed faintly under the station’s artificial lighting. It wasn’t just any entrance; it was a threshold, a gateway to something important, something sacred.

Quartz remained still, waiting. He didn’t reach for a panel, didn’t press a button. Instead, he simply stood, his presence alone signaling their arrival.

Seconds passed. Then, as if sensing their presence, the door began to shift.

As they stepped through the massive doorway, the atmosphere within the room shifted instantly. It was grand—almost overwhelming in its presence.

Before them, a long row of thrones came into view, each one meticulously crafted and positioned with an air of undeniable authority. Behind the thrones, a colossal screen stretched across the back wall, its surface displaying a breathtaking simulation of Earth. The planet rotated slowly, its blue oceans and swirling clouds illuminated against the darkness of space. It was a stark reminder of their mission—the world they were about to set foot on.

Seated upon the thrones were the Madams—the revered founders of the Space Station. They were more than just leaders; they were legends, figures spoken of in hushed tones, their influence woven into the very fabric of the station’s history. Some considered them myths, larger-than-life beings who had shaped the course of space exploration itself. But here they were, very real, their presence undeniable.

Their gazes were already fixed on Saiphee and Vantheos, as if they had been expecting them long before they even arrived. There was no need for introductions, no need for formalities—the weight of their presence alone spoke volumes.

The air in the throne room was thick with an unseen force, an energy that pressed against the skin like a silent whisper of power. Their auras extended outward, filling every inch of the space, commanding both respect and awe.

Saiphee could feel it—an unspoken expectation, a silent judgment. 

One of the figures seated on the thrones shifted slightly, her presence commanding yet effortlessly composed. Crossing her arms over her chest, she spoke with an air of authority that left no room for uncertainty.

"Due to unforeseen circumstances, Madam Ilya, Madam Ria, and Madam Julia will not be attending this ceremony," she announced, her voice steady and unwavering.

The speaker was none other than Katerina Romanova, a name spoken with both reverence and caution throughout the Space Station. Known as the wielder of the devastating mass destruction weapon from Mercury, her reputation preceded her. Though she sat still, her aura radiated a chilling intensity—cool, controlled, yet undeniably intimidating. She did not need to raise her voice for it to be felt; her presence alone was enough to command the room.

Before Saiphee or Vantheos could fully process her words, another voice echoed through the chamber, smooth yet laced with expectation.

"Regardless, I trust this will not interfere with your mission to Earth," the second figure stated, her tone carrying a quiet authority. "This is the most significant event the Space Station has ever undertaken. You must not fail."

The speaker was Eunseo Park, another legend among the Madams. She carried the formidable weapon of Neptune, a force as fluid and unpredictable as the deep tides of the planet she represented. Her hair cascaded down like flowing waves, pooling around her throne in a mesmerizing display, as if she herself were an extension of the ocean’s might.

Then, a third voice—soft, almost fragile—broke the silence.

"I’m sure you’ll enjoy Earth…" the voice murmured, laced with a faint wistfulness. "It’s been a long time since I last visited…"

The words came from Asaki Kumina, the wielder of Uranus’s chilling weapon. Unlike the others, her presence was different—less commanding, more delicate. Yet there was an eerie beauty to her, a quiet resilience that lingered beneath the surface. However, it was impossible to ignore the state she was in.

A creeping frost had begun to take hold of her body, an infectious ice slowly consuming her form. Icicles clung to the edges of her throne, and a faint mist of cold surrounded her, evidence of the affliction she bore. Though she remained seated with grace, the weakness in her posture was evident.

Saiphee could feel the weight of their gazes, each one carrying its own meaning—authority, expectation, and something unspoken, perhaps even regret. This was more than just a blessing. It was a moment of reckoning.

A sharp, exasperated voice suddenly cut through the air, laced with irritation and unfiltered frustration.

"Hmph! Of course Sister Ilya isn’t here again!" the voice huffed dramatically. "Honestly, no wonder so many Interstellar Voyagers are dying! How can we expect things to run smoothly when she’s never around?"

The complaint came from none other than Chloe Fauré, the tempestuous wielder of the catalyst from Jupiter. Unlike the other Madams, who carried themselves with composed authority, Chloe was different—impulsive, outspoken, and utterly unapologetic about it. She lounged in her throne with an air of entitlement, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she pouted in frustration.

Her irritation was palpable, her foot tapping impatiently against the polished floor as if that alone would summon the absent Madam Ilya. Her golden curls bounced slightly as she tossed her head back in exasperation, making no effort to hide her displeasure.

"Honestly, why do we even bother with these ceremonies if some people can’t be bothered to show up?" she continued, her voice rising slightly as she gestured dramatically. "It’s so irresponsible! And then we have to clean up the mess when things go wrong!"

She let out a theatrical sigh, shaking her head as if the weight of the entire universe rested on her shoulders alone. Though her words carried a sting of truth, it was clear she was more annoyed by the inconvenience than the actual consequences.

Despite her complaints, there was no denying her power. Jupiter’s catalyst pulsed faintly at her side, a reminder that beneath her bratty demeanor was a force to be reckoned with.

“You’re really fucking overreacting, aren’t you?” Freya’s voice rang out, sharp and dripping with annoyance. She sat on her imposing throne, her posture exuding both authority and irritation. Her hand rested on the hilt of the longsword from  Mars, the blade glowing with an intense red hue. The air around her shimmered with the heat of her fiery aura, as if the very room couldn’t handle the intensity of her presence.

Chloe, sitting lazily across the room on her own throne, rolled her eyes and let out an exaggerated sigh. Her fingers traced the cool surface of the catalyst she held from Jupiter, the weapon crackling with energy as she twirled it in her hands, clearly unfazed by the tension in the air. Her expression was a mix of boredom and bratty amusement, as if she couldn’t care less about the argument at hand.

“Oh, please, Freya, stop being such a drama queen,” Chloe scoffed, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “You’re acting like I just set your throne on fire or something. Can’t you just chill out for once?”

Freya’s fiery gaze hardened, her aura flaring slightly as her patience began to thin. “You think I’m being dramatic? You’ve got some fucking nerve, Chloe. Just because you’ve got that little toy from Jupiter doesn’t mean you can talk down to me like I’m some fucking child.”

Chloe smirked, clearly enjoying the rise she was getting out of Freya. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were the queen of the universe now. You’ve got a sword and some fire, wow, so impressive,” she said, her voice dripping with mockery. She lazily leaned back in her throne, the storm energy swirling gently around her like a playful breeze, her catalyst humming with crackling power.

Freya’s lips curled into a sneer, her grip tightening on her longsword. “You think you can just keep running your mouth and get away with it, huh? I’m not some pushover you can talk shit to, Chloe. I’ve fought wars with fire that could burn your fucking storm to the ground.”

Chloe raised an eyebrow, her smirk never fading. “Oh, I’m sure you have, fire queen. But you forget, I’ve got the power of Jupiter’s storms at my fingertips. You really think your fire can beat that? Cute.” She let out a little giggle, her eyes glinting with bratty amusement as she swirled her catalyst again, sending a small jolt of lightning through the air, the crackle of static charging the room.

Freya’s eyes narrowed, her flames flickering dangerously. “You’re a fucking brat, Chloe. You think just because you have a little lightning power, you can talk down to me? You don’t know a damn thing about power.”

Chloe crossed her arms, her legs casually draped over the armrest of her throne. “I know enough to know that your fire is nothing compared to the storms of Jupiter. You’re just a hothead with a fancy sword. But hey, if you want to make this interesting, game on.” She flicked her wrist, and the storm around her swelled, clouds beginning to swirl ominously above her head, the air growing heavy with the weight of her power.