The rest of the cadets taken to the Star Crypt failed to successfully link with the last two Knights—and died as a result. Three others got lucky, scoring a flat 0% synchronization rate with all three remaining Constellation Knights, which meant they were sent down to pilot mass-produced models instead.
That left me, Sam, and Zero with a new, looming uncertainty: what would happen to us?
Ever since the conclusion of the Constellation Program, we had been confined to a waiting room furnished only with a table of snacks and a few chairs.
"See where being an idiot can get you, Firefly?" Sam nudged me, idly flipping a portable 'card version' of his Constellation Knight between his fingers. Its sleek, draconic design gleamed under the overhead lights. "If I hadn't come, you might not have succeeded. Now, what should I ask from you as my reward?"
Zero barged into the conversation, shoving Sam aside with an annoyed grunt. "If anything, it's thanks to me being here that you two managed to survive."
Sam shot back immediately. "How do you figure that nonsense? Firefly and I went before you did! If anything, we paved the way for you to succeed."
"Like I needed your help!"
As they descended into bickering, I remained seated, nibbling on an oat cookie from the table while my fingers traced the changed form of Andromeda. It was mesmerizing how something so massive—towering at twenty feet in its true form—could reduce itself to a small, compact shape, no bigger than a brick.
Traveler once told me that Constellation Knights were the most perfected weapons of warfare, capable of achieving "miracles" through the pilot's spiritual energy as fuel. He never elaborated on what those miracles were, but I supposed this transformation was one of them.
I ran a thumb over the smooth platinum beetle insignia engraved into its surface. "I hope you can show me more miracles, Andromeda..." I whispered.
"Say, Firefly."
I glanced up at Sam, who was now standing while Zero continued punching the air in frustration after losing their argument.
"When you were linking with Andromeda," Sam asked, a curious gleam in his eyes, "were you also taken somewhere?"
I hesitated before answering. "Yes. It was... a fairy-tale-like garden. A field of flowers blanketed in snow. In the centre of it, I met Andromeda... but she was broken." I ran my fingers over the insignia again. "We... talked, I think. If that's the right word for it."
"Not far off from what happened to me, then." Sam rubbed his chin, recalling his own experience. "For Draco, I was taken to a cave full of monster skeletons—weapons buried in their skulls, fire burning everywhere. In the centre, Draco was sitting in a burning monster's skull. When I approached, he stabbed me, but I managed to force him to his knees somehow. Then bam—back to reality."
I blinked in shock. "He stabbed you? Are you alright?"
Sam smirked, puffing out his chest. "Perfectly fine. As if I'd lose in someone's dreams."
Turning to Zero, he called out, "Hey, third-best! What about you?"
Zero halted his air-boxing, scowling. "Shut up."
Sam grinned, but seeing Zero hesitate, he held his tongue.
Scratching the back of his head, Zero finally relayed his experience. "I ended up in this temple—altars everywhere, all of them covered in different offerings to Ara. I figured I had to give something too, so I offered some of my blood." He crossed his arms. "Heh. Read in a book once that the gods of old liked blood offerings. After that, I got sent back."
Something about this didn't add up.
"Did your Knights look different in that... uh..." I tried to recall a term Traveler used. "Dreamscape?"
Sam frowned, thinking. "You did say Andromeda looked broken in yours, right?"
I nodded.
"It's the same for Draco," he mused. "In my vision, he was made of cracked bones from the monster skeletons nearby—looked like they were missing fangs, parts of their skulls. But here, he's solid steel and leather."
"Yeah, Ara was golden in mine," Zero added, flipping his silvery-white card form between his fingers. "But in reality, he's made of some kind of crystal-metal. Depleted osmium, I think?"
"We should ask Dr Medea about this later." I said.
Nodding in agreement, the three of us had just reached a consensus when the door hissed open. Dr Medea strode into the room, flanked by Major General Tatelov and Field Marshal Haslein. Instinct took over. We shot to our feet, backs straight, arms stiffened into sharp salutes. The training ingrained into our bones wouldn't allow anything less.
"At ease, trainees," the Marshal commanded, his voice carrying the weight of authority. We obeyed, hands dropping to our sides as he continued. "Dr Medea and I have been in discussion with your base's supervisor, Major General Tatelov, and we have expressed our gratitude. Fallen Moon Base has provided not just one, but three new Star Pilots. Once your training is complete—four to five years from now—you will stand as the spear and shield of Her Majesty's Empire, alongside the other Constellation Knights."
A weight settled in my stomach. The words made it real. No longer just an impossible dream, but a future carved into stone.
"Permission to speak, sir," Samuel interjected, breaking the moment.
"Granted."
"This might be presumptuous of me, sir, but how many Constellation Knights does the Nymphas Empire currently have?"
The question gave the officers pause. A flicker of something—hesitation, perhaps—passed between them before Dr Medea answered.
"Exactly twenty-five remain," she said crisply. "Seventeen are lost, and the final eight are on unaffiliated planets, resisting the Empire's expansion." She brushed a hand across her sleeve, her focus briefly elsewhere before snapping back. "If you have any more questions, ask them now. Otherwise, we will move on."
Swallowing my nerves, I raised a hand.
Marshal Haslein nodded. "Go ahead, Cadet."
"Uhm... what exactly makes a Constellation Knight so special?" I asked. "If we have them, why can't we just... make more?"
The question made sense to me. The Empire had conquered entire star systems—surely, with all our resources, we should be able to replicate them.
Dr Medea sighed, as if anticipating the inquiry. "It's a reasonable assumption," she admitted, "but Constellation Knights are impossible to reproduce. The technologies and materials used to build them have long been lost to time—or worse, rendered extinct." She gestured toward my compact Andromeda. "For example, Andromeda's cold-fusion core, Ara's gold-fission veins, and Draco's self-sustaining armour—these are all relics of a forgotten age. Even more perplexing is the fact that Constellation Knights were largely modified by their pilots over time, often without any formal understanding of what they were doing. The errors should have crippled them, yet somehow, those same errors made them superior to anything modern science can replicate."
The absurdity of it almost made me laugh. The greatest war machines in the Empire weren't meticulously engineered—they were essentially patched together by their pilots, trial and error guiding their evolution like some cosmic joke.
I fought the urge to grin, reminded of one of Traveler's stories—something about a tribe of monsters that managed to build a working car without an engine, then used it to win a race.
"This will be explained in greater depth by your professors once you return to base," Marshal Haslein said. "Now, is there anything else?"
Zero, ever the blunt one, stepped forward. "Sir, while we were waiting, we realized that all three of us experienced something... strange during the linking process. A dreamscape, as Cadet Firefly called it. What exactly was that?"
Marshal Haslein studied us for a moment before answering. "A proving ground," he said simply. "A place where the Constellation Knights test the character of their would-be pilots. If you had failed their trials, you would have died, just like the others before you. The dreamscape is a manifestation of your own spiritual energy, shaped by the neural links in your brain under the influence of the CK. It is neither fully real nor fully illusion." His tone was firm. "Is that everything?"
The three of us exchanged glances. No more questions came to mind.
"Good," the Marshal continued. "Now, to the next matter. Effective immediately, your status as Constellation Knight pilots will remain classified. Not even Her Majesty will be informed until after your graduation, per protocol."
That caught me off guard. Sam and Zero stiffened beside me.
"Sir," Sam began, hesitating, "why the secrecy?"
"To ensure your safety," Haslein answered without missing a beat. "Rebel forces would go to great lengths to eliminate you before you ever set foot on the battlefield. To mitigate that risk, your training will be publicly recorded as taking place in a dummy facility—a decoy meant to bait potential assassins, should there be a leak. As far as the other cadets are concerned, you have been selected to test new prototype knights. Under no circumstances are you to reveal the truth. Understood?"
"Sir! Yes, sir!" we shouted in unison.
"Good." Haslein's approval was evident. "You will be provided with training materials left behind by previous generations of CK pilots. Additionally, private facilities within Fallen Moon Base will be made available for you to safely develop your abilities. For security reasons, your living quarters will be relocated close to one another. If anything goes wrong, you will be able to respond immediately." His eyes swept over us one final time. "I wish you luck. I look forward to the results you will bring in the years ahead. You are dismissed."
We snapped to attention, saluted, and followed Major General Tatelov out of the room.
***
The moment the door shut behind us, Field Marshal Haslein exhaled heavily, rubbing his temples. "Hoo~," he groaned. "Three Constellation Knights. Three of them. And the highest number of surviving cadets from a single facility in the history of the program." He leaned against the table, shaking his head in disbelief. "I don't know what Tatelov's doing differently at Fallen Moon, but it's working."
Dr. Medea scoffed. "Some of my people looked into it. The only notable difference, aside from the registered pilots, was one particular policy." She folded her arms. "Food coupons."
Haslein blinked. "The meal vouchers? The ones that let cadets request a dish of their choice?"
"Yes. You approved them by accident," Medea reminded him dryly. "But apparently, they served as excellent motivation for the lower-ranked cadets. According to the analytics, they were used as rewards for performance in daily drills."
Haslein chuckled. "So you're telling me the secret to creating war heroes is better rations?"
Medea ignored his amusement, her voice tightening. "There is still an irregularity." She turned away, her expression darkening. "The defect—the AKP unit that calls itself Firefly. She should have died, like every other failure before her. Yet she survived. The best conclusion I can reach is the elevated stimulant levels in her bloodstream, but even that shouldn't have been enough to satisfy Andromeda. It certainly wasn't for the other five CKs."
"Stop nit-picking and be grateful for the results," Haslein said, waving her off. "You know as well as I do that Orion—the first Constellation Knight—was built under circumstances just as unpredictable."
"It defies all scientific evidence," Medea growled. "I was hesitant to send in Fallen Moon's top AKP and human cadet, but thankfully, their skill levels must have made a strong enough impression."
Haslein smirked. "Or maybe the CKs enjoyed the blood sacrifice beforehand. Loosened them up a bit."
Medea's eyes flashed with irritation. "This is serious. If we can determine what makes these three different, we might be able to manipulate the selection process, ensure new pilots the moment the old ones perish. No more waiting decades for resurgence."
Haslein's tone turned sharp. "That's what every scientist before you claimed. Yet here we are." He leveled her with a warning stare. "You are ordered to leave those cadets alone. Do I make myself clear?"
Medea's fists clenched. "If I could just dissect the defect, then we wouldn't even—"
"That was an order, Dr. Medea!" Haslein's voice thundered through the room. "If I catch you even attempting to take so much as a strand of hair from them, I will have you flayed and executed for insubordination. Just like the last three who disobeyed."
Medea's jaw tightened, her eyes burning with barely restrained fury. But she relented.
"Fine," she spat. "I'll be in the weapons lab if you need me, Marshal."