Three years passed like a comet streaking across a silent sky—burning, relentless, and unforgettable.
The boy who once stepped onto Stellar Academy's docks with eyes full of stars had become a man shaped by war-games, blood, and discipline. His back was no longer just straight; it bore the invisible weight of command. His hands no longer trembled—they issued silent orders that conquered every simulation. Kael Renn, once a farmer's son from Velora Prime, now stood tall at the heart of the Federation's most prestigious ceremony: The Ascension of Blades.
The grand coliseum in Stellar Academy's central ring bloomed like a silver flower in orbit—etched with banners of every known fleet. Thousands of cadets in pristine white uniforms stood in perfect rows, sunlight from Solris III bathing them in golden fire. Family members watched from the heavens—holograms projected from distant colonies and Earth-bound stations. Across the void, the future looked on.
At the center of it all stood Fleet Admiral Tarus Veylan, Dean of Stellar Academy. His presence alone could silence plasma storms. With gray hair like woven mercury and a coat of midnight-blue laced with quantum threads, he raised his voice, and the galaxy seemed to pause.
"You have trained under moons that never slept. You have broken your bones on the anvil of discipline. You were fed steel and taught to bleed silence. And now... you are ready."
His words cut clean through the artificial atmosphere, reverberating inside every cadet's soul.
"In the name of the Human Federation," he continued, "and by the will of its people, I declare the Class of Solris 44… graduated. You are no longer cadets. You are soldiers."
Then came the thunder—thousands of boots snapping together in salute. A mechanical, perfect storm of devotion.
But it wasn't over.
From the sky descended a ship—a black, angular leviathan crowned in red insignia: the emblem of the Grand Admiralty. Gasps spread like wildfire.
Grand Admiral Ardian had arrived.
He was the highest-ranking officer in the Human Federation—supreme commander of all fleets save the Executor himself. His eyes were cold stars, and his voice like an asteroid scraping metal.
"Bring forth the exceptional," Ardian commanded.
One by one, the top graduates were called.
Some were granted the final rank in the enlisted tier—Warrant Officers, to be sent to field posts across the colonies.
Others were granted officer titles—Lieutenants and Captains, given charge of their own squads and minor ships.
And then came silence.
Ardian turned his gaze across the sea of uniforms and raised a hand.
"Kael Renn."
The name echoed like a drop of water in a cavern—soft, but infinite.
Kael stepped forward, eyes unwavering, posture rigid.
Ardian looked him over—this nineteen-year-old forged from dirt and death-screams, grown silent and lethal, a ghost commander hiding in flesh.
"Effective immediately," Ardian declared, voice like thunder etched in glass, "Kael Renn is commissioned as Major of the Human Federation. He shall take command of the 4th Sub-Fleet of the 20th Legion."
Shock rippled through the cadets.
A Major?
Straight from the academy?
That rank was reserved for officers with decades of service, not fresh graduates. Yet none questioned it. No one dared. They had seen Kael in the simulations. They had tasted his strategy like poison in their lungs.
This was not favoritism.
This was inevitability.
A projection flickered to life behind Ardian, displaying the stats of Kael's new command:
20th Legion, 4th Sub-Fleet
Fleet Composition:
1 Command Ship
200 Class A Destroyers
400 Class A Crusaders
800 Class A Frigates
400 Class B Transport/Supply Ships
100 Class A Recon Ships
Legion Hierarchy:
1 Mothership
7 Royal Guard Fleets
40 Battle Fleets
10 Transport Fleets
Transport Fleet Composition (per fleet):
50 Class A Destroyers
100 Class A Crusaders
600 Class D Bunkers
100 Class A Recon Ships
The scale was monstrous. This was no ceremonial title—Kael was now the commanding blade of a sub-fleet capable of planetary-scale engagement.
A digital badge was uploaded to his wrist console, sealing his new identity.
As Kael saluted, Ardian whispered so only he could hear:
"Don't die, Major. You're no longer a ghost. Now the galaxy watches you."
Kael nodded, expression unreadable. He had no words. Only purpose.
As the ceremony ended, and the graduates began to march down the Hall of Steel, a single name echoed across command channels and fleet discussions:
Kael Renn.
The Ghost Commander had become a legend with breath.
And legends… never sleep.