My life after the Great Pit was defined by silence and the relentless presence of JD Blaxskn. My tactical victory over Torvin Anvil had bought me status, but it had also sealed my fate. I was no longer the apprentice who might be redeemed; I was the tool who had proven his perfect fitness for ruthlessness. JD had removed me entirely from the main Hub, transferring my quarters to a small, isolated wing near the tactical center—the same sterile environment where he conducted his cold surveillance.
"Apprentice-Commander," JD stated one evening, dismissing the schematics screen with a single, sharp gesture. "The training is complete. Now begins the deployment."
I stood at attention, my body responding with the practiced, automatic precision he had drilled into me. The pain of the past was
