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[Spider's Hideout]
The air inside the interrogation room was still. The lights buzzed as they cast a dull orange hue across the walls. Nulsis had finally collapsed.
Void stood silently in front of him, shadows flickered behind him as Zamyr's presence faded.
With Zamyr's help, he was able to easily extract information. But what he'd found had shocked him.
Void's expression was unreadable as he processed Nulsis's confession. The House of Winter was planning to raid the Ishtar Academy. It was a fact that it would happen. The Ishtar Academy housed various golden age secrets. The House of Winter would eventually target it, just as in the original timeline.
On the other hand, House of Devils intended to reclaim the Cosmodrome, armed with newly upgraded tech. Nulsis didn't know much beyond the fact that the splicers were playing a far bigger role in the Devil's leadership than before.
But without a doubt, the worst news was about the House of Kings.
Nulsis knew nothing. Yet Void was sure they had a hand in orchestrating these plans as well as strengthening the alliance that once fractured humanity's hold on the system.
It all sounded… too familiar.
Void blinked slowly, his mind drifting. These weren't just fragmented plans—they were full-scale invasions, coordinated. Worse still, they mirrored the events of the original timeline almost perfectly. But this time, he'd heard about them far earlier than he should have. That realization twisted uneasily in his chest
He shook his head and exhaled, 'This is not the time to dwell.'
He stepped back and dusted his gloves off. "Obsidian," he said aloud.
Obsidian shimmered into view. "Using an Ahamkara to interrogate is a bit...excessive."
"He'll live," Void muttered. "We've got what we needed."
"So, should I send these findings to the city?" Obsidian asked, unsure.
Void took a pause, his brows curved to a frown. "No. Not yet. If the city knows, they'll likely try to stop it early. We can't afford to let this chance slip away." Void's voice turned low, "The only way to win, is to strike when the enemy least expects."
Obsidian hummed, and then replied with a nod. "That is..possible." Then he turned to face Void fully, "If your plan is to fail. It'll be too late for the City to know."
"It Won't fail." Just as Void turned to leave the room, his system window flared. The faction tab blinked across his HUD—VENOM faction: 40/60 Members.
Void paused, blinking again. "Forty new members?" he muttered, eyebrows lifting. "Already?"
Obsidian floated beside him. "Guess word's getting around fast."
Void groaned under his breath. He hadn't even issued a single mission himself yet! Matter of fact, he'd even forgotten to prepare for it.
"Fine. We adapt."
The gears turned in his head, his last plan for the VENOM players was to issue some simple bounty quests that revolved around killing Fallen, as well as hunting House of Devils captains.
But now, the situation had changed. He needed something far better to truly set his faction apart. And the idea had just struck him.
Void's eyes narrowed. "Send Shaxx a message."
Obsidian blinked with surprise, "What? Uh, what exactly do you want to say?"
"Just tell him I'd like to meet him as soon as possible in the Cosmodrome." Void smiled, "Don't forget to write that its about the Crucible."
Then he left the room with a quick stride.
When he reached the throne room, Spider was already waiting, lounging with a cup in his clawed hand.
"Well?" Spider asked without looking up. "What did our guest whisper to you?"
Void, walked up and crossed his arms. "More than expected. You were right—he's just a courier. But he had enough to confirm your suspicions. He indeed was working with many houses."
"Fallen Houses secretly reuniting and hatching plans." Spider finally looked up, his four eyes glinting, "Quite the devastating news. Yet, I can't hear the panic in your voice."
Void chuckled, "Eager to read my intentions?"
"No. Just, curious." Spider took a sip of his drink, and said nothing more.
"Fallen Houses reuniting or not, I've got my own plans." Void replied flatly, "It won't be long till they realize who really should be panicked."
Spider nodded slowly, swirling his drink. "I see." he said after a pause. "As for our friend, he's a messenger. Since you've kept him alive, allow me to do the rest."
Void raised an eyebrow. "Planning to use him?"
Spider chuckled. "Planning to own him. Information is currency, friend. You know that."
Void said nothing, but a subtle smirk tugged at his lip. "He's yours, then. But keep him quiet."
As Void turned to leave, Spider swirled his cup again, this time more thoughtfully.
Then, hours passed.
Later that evening, one of Spider's lieutenants entered the throne room, presenting a data pad. "Message from the House of Devils," the grunt said.
Spider's eyes narrowed. The room grew cold.
He took the pad, glanced over the message, and leaned back with a sigh.
On it were a few images the Devil's had taken of Nulsis's capture. Though most of the pictures weren't anything striking, the last one focusing on Viper had irked him.
He realized what the Devil's were really asking for.
"Tell them, that I've no knowledge of any of this.," he muttered then added, "Do give my condolences for Nulsis's capture."
The grunt nodded and left.
Spider sat alone for a moment longer, drumming his fingers along the data pad's edge. Then, with a flick of his claw, he powered it down.
"Best to let shadows stay shadows," he whispered.
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[Workshop, Thieves Landing]
The Workshop groaned under the weight of voices. Not machinery, but eager voices. Dozens of them.
Pahanin slouched in a folding chair beside the central forge terminal, arms folded across his chest, one leg bouncing with irritation. Sweat dotted his brow. His silver armor—normally pristine—was streaked with soot and smudges of black carbon.
He watched, unblinking, as another crowd of New Lights mobbed the loadout benches. Pahanin sighed.
Though normally he'd go up and greet them, by the third batch of guardians, he'd stopped bothering.
'It's not like they listen anyway.' Pahanin clicked his tongue.
Instead, he pressed a button. Two worker droids swiftly reached the loadout bench and began helping the new lights.
The droids were barely enough. Pahanin had managed to build them by utilizing the scrap of the Juggernaut frames Void had encountered. Hence, they'd turned out pretty well and looked sleek with a sharp design.
Pahanin sighed through his nose. That didn't matter at all. All the new lights cared about were the guns in stock, and what they could choose as a starter item. He couldn't believe none of them had bothered to comment about his pristine workshop.
"Savages."
The worst part was, they just kept coming. Filing in, loud, curious, clumsy. Nudging every switch they shouldn't. Gawking at things they didn't understand.
He rubbed his temples. Void had said there'd be a "bit of attention." This wasn't attention. This was a flood.
The workshop was once his quiet domain of wires, welds, and weapon cores—was now a vendor bazaar.
At this stage, Pahanin didn't even bother complaining.
The droids moved autonomously, issuing starter kits for VENOM recruits.
He stood up with a groan, stretching his arms over his head. His muscles ached. His patience wore thin. He looked around. At the cluttered racks. The buzzing lights. The endless sea of excitable greenhorns marveling at energy weapons they didn't yet know how to hold right.
Pahanin grit his teeth. This was his life now.
"Void," he muttered, "if you ever come back here, I'm shoving you in a crate and mailing you to the Moon."
Eventually, the flow of New Lights slowed as they received their gear and headed out to the Cosmodrome. The Workshop quieted, leaving behind scraps of wrappers, empty weapon crates, and droids still humming softly in idle.
Pahanin returned to his chair, dropping into it like a stone.
He closed his eyes for a moment. Not to rest. Just to pretend—for a second—that the Workshop was his again.
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