Run.
Dinraal couldn't move.
The First Weapon towered over him.
Around them, the ancient chamber had become a battlefield.
Ashen soldiers poured from the black vessel above.
The Draec soldiers met them head-on.
Blue fire.
Silver light.
Black ash.
The air shook with explosions.
But Dinraal heard none of it.
Dinraal.
His father's voice came again.
RUN.
Dinraal stared into the creature's six burning eyes.
"Father?"
The First Weapon's head jerked violently.
A roar tore through the chamber.
Dinraal stumbled backward.
Then the creature spoke.
Not aloud.
Inside his mind.
HE FOUND ME.
Dinraal's heart stopped.
"What?"
The world disappeared.
He stood beneath a different sky.
Blue.
Clear.
Beautiful.
Dinraal looked around.
He was standing in a field of green grass.
Wind moved through the trees.
Birds flew overhead.
There were no starships.
No cities burning.
No soldiers.
For several seconds, Dinraal simply stared.
Then he turned.
Bahamut stood behind him.
Dinraal didn't hesitate.
He crossed the distance between them.
"Father!"
His hand passed through him.
Dinraal froze.
Bahamut looked almost the same as before.
But something was wrong.
His body flickered.
The edges of his form were breaking apart.
"A memory," Dinraal whispered.
Bahamut nodded.
"Part of one."
Dinraal looked around.
"Where are we?"
Bahamut turned toward the horizon.
"Earth."
The word meant nothing to Dinraal.
He frowned.
"What?"
Bahamut looked back at him.
"Humanity's first world."
Dinraal became still.
Behind him, something changed.
The peaceful landscape faded.
A city appeared in the distance.
Ancient.
Primitive compared to the worlds Dinraal knew.
But enormous.
Humans filled its streets.
Millions of them.
Dinraal stared.
"Earth."
Bahamut nodded.
"The birthplace of mankind."
Dinraal looked toward the city.
"But humans live across the stars."
"Now."
Bahamut's expression darkened.
"But once, there was only Earth."
The vision changed.
Dinraal saw centuries pass.
Cities rose.
Fell.
Rose again.
Humanity spread across the planet.
Their population grew.
Billions.
Then the stars opened to them.
Ships left Earth.
Colonies were established.
Entire worlds became human.
Dinraal watched the human race multiply.
And multiply.
And multiply.
Then—
Bahamut raised his hand.
The image stopped.
"Do you know what makes humans different?"
Dinraal looked at him.
"There are several answers."
Bahamut almost smiled.
"Your mother would have said that."
Dinraal's expression softened.
Then Bahamut turned serious again.
"Humans possess a law."
"A law?"
"Not one they created."
The vision changed.
Dinraal saw a single human.
A warrior.
Standing alone against dozens of enemies.
The man was impossibly powerful.
Dinraal watched him move.
One strike shattered armor.
Another split the ground.
Dinraal stared.
"Who is that?"
Bahamut answered.
"Gilgamesh."
The name echoed strangely through Dinraal's mind.
The vision shifted.
Another man appeared.
Older.
Tall.
His body seemed almost ordinary.
Until an army attacked him.
Dinraal watched the man raise one hand.
The army vanished.
Dinraal stared.
"And him?"
Bahamut looked toward the ancient human.
"Methuselah."
Silence.
Dinraal looked between the two visions.
"They were human?"
"Yes."
"But they're stronger than—"
"Almost anything alive."
Dinraal slowly turned toward his father.
"Why?"
Bahamut looked toward Earth.
"The fewer humans there are…"
The vision changed.
The human population began falling.
Millions became thousands.
Thousands became hundreds.
The warriors grew stronger.
Bahamut finished the sentence.
"…the stronger each human becomes."
Dinraal stared.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then—
"That makes no sense."
Bahamut nodded.
"No."
"That's your explanation?"
"It is the truth."
Dinraal folded his arms.
"Try harder."
Bahamut sighed.
Dinraal suddenly realized how familiar that expression was.
"My son."
"What?"
"You are currently speaking to the preserved consciousness of a dead man inside an ancient weapon."
Dinraal paused.
Bahamut continued.
"And this is the part you find difficult to believe?"
Dinraal thought about it.
"…Fair."
Bahamut turned back toward Earth.
"The oldest human records called it many things."
The sky darkened.
The vision changed again.
Ancient humans stood around fires.
They told stories.
They wrote legends.
"They called it inheritance."
The image changed.
"Divinity."
Another.
"Human potential."
Finally—
"Conservation."
Dinraal frowned.
"Conservation of what?"
Bahamut looked at him.
"Humanity."
The word seemed to carry weight.
Bahamut continued.
"No one knows where the law came from."
Dinraal listened.
"Some believed that humanity possessed a finite source of power."
The vision showed countless lights.
Billions of them.
Each one represented a human.
"When humanity spread across billions of lives…"
The lights multiplied.
Their individual brightness weakened.
"The power was divided."
Then the lights began disappearing.
One by one.
The remaining lights grew brighter.
"But when humanity became rare…"
The last lights burned like stars.
"…the survivors became something extraordinary."
Dinraal looked toward Gilgamesh.
Then Methuselah.
"So the fewer humans exist…"
Bahamut nodded.
"The greater the strength of each one."
Dinraal's expression changed.
"That means—"
He stopped.
Bahamut waited.
Dinraal looked toward the ancient warriors.
"If humans ever became nearly extinct…"
Bahamut's face darkened.
"They would become terrifying."
The vision shattered.
Dinraal returned to the battlefield.
A blade passed through the space where his head had been.
He moved.
Pure instinct.
The Ashen soldier stumbled past him.
Dinraal grabbed the attacker's arm.
The Mithril Gaunt flashed.
SLEEP.
The soldier collapsed.
Dinraal turned.
"Father?"
The First Weapon roared.
Bahamut's voice was weaker now.
LISTEN.
Dinraal looked toward the creature.
THE ASHEN KNOW.
"What?"
THEY KNOW ABOUT EARTH.
Dinraal's blood went cold.
Another explosion shook the chamber.
Arcturus shouted somewhere behind him.
"DINRAAL!"
Dinraal ignored him.
"What about Earth?"
The First Weapon's enormous head lowered.
The red light in its eyes flickered.
Then Dinraal saw another memory.
Not ancient.
Recent.
A black ship.
Ashen soldiers.
And a human.
Dinraal froze.
The human was standing alone.
He wore simple dark clothing.
No armor.
No weapon.
Ashen soldiers surrounded him.
Dinraal watched.
One of them fired.
The human disappeared.
The next instant—
the Ashen soldier's head struck the floor.
Dinraal stared.
Another soldier attacked.
The human caught the blade.
With one hand.
Then broke it.
Dinraal's breathing stopped.
The human turned.
His face became visible.
Ancient.
Weathered.
But alive.
"Methuselah."
Bahamut's voice entered his mind.
HE NEVER DIED.
The vision changed.
Another battlefield.
Another human.
This one carried a sword.
Entire armies surrounded him.
Dinraal already knew the answer.
"Gilgamesh."
The ancient warrior raised his weapon.
The battlefield disappeared in a single flash of light.
Dinraal stumbled backward.
The memory ended.
He stared at the First Weapon.
"Are they alive?"
Bahamut's silence was answer enough.
Dinraal felt cold.
For all his life, he had heard stories about humanity.
The Chancellor's people.
Their worlds.
Their armies.
But Earth?
Earth had been a myth.
A forgotten origin.
A world most believed had died before the first interstellar empires were born.
Dinraal raised his hand.
"Why would the Ashen care about Earth?"
The First Weapon trembled.
BECAUSE THEY ARE AFRAID.
Dinraal frowned.
"Of humans?"
The creature's red eyes flickered.
OF THE LAST HUMAN.
"DINRAAL!"
Isolde's voice cut through his thoughts.
Dinraal turned.
She was surrounded.
Three Ashen soldiers closed in on her position.
Dinraal moved.
The world slowed.
He crossed the chamber.
One moment he was beside the First Weapon.
The next—
he was in front of Isolde.
She stared at him.
"Din?"
Dinraal raised his hand.
STILL.
All three soldiers froze.
Isolde looked from them to him.
"Did you just—"
Dinraal struck the first soldier.
The helmet shattered.
He turned.
A kick sent the second into the wall.
The third began breaking free.
Dinraal grabbed the soldier's weapon and drove it into the ground.
The weapon exploded.
Dinraal stumbled backward.
Isolde caught him.
"Are you all right?"
He looked at her.
"I think so."
"You think?"
Dinraal looked toward the Mithril Gaunt.
A second crack had appeared across its surface.
His expression darkened.
Isolde noticed.
"What happened?"
Dinraal looked toward her.
"I found out something."
"That doesn't sound good."
"It isn't."
Another explosion shook the chamber.
Johanna appeared from behind a collapsed section of wall.
"Can this conversation wait?"
Dinraal pointed toward the battlefield.
"Probably."
Johanna fired past him.
An Ashen soldier fell.
"Good."
Claire ran toward them.
Her hair was covered in dust.
"I hate to interrupt whatever this is, but we're losing."
Dinraal looked around.
She was right.
The ancient soldiers were holding the Ashen back.
Barely.
The First Weapon was still fighting against whatever remained of Bahamut's command.
And above them—
the black vessel continued releasing soldiers.
Arcturus shouted.
"THE EMPEROR!"
Dinraal turned.
The commander was fighting three Ashen soldiers at once.
Dinraal's eyes narrowed.
"That's going to become annoying."
Isolde looked at him.
"You're getting used to it."
"I am not."
"You are."
Dinraal pointed toward the battlefield.
"Later."
Vael stood before the First Weapon.
Blood ran down one side of his face.
The silver lines beneath his skin burned brightly.
Dinraal approached.
Vael didn't turn.
"You saw him."
Dinraal stopped.
"What?"
"Bahamut."
Dinraal became still.
Vael looked toward the creature.
"He's inside it."
Dinraal's expression hardened.
"You knew."
Vael finally turned.
His face was filled with guilt.
"Yes."
Dinraal's hands curled into fists.
"You knew my father was alive in there."
"Not alive."
"Don't play games with me."
Vael stepped closer.
"Dinraal."
The anger in his voice was gone.
"There was no way to save him."
Dinraal said nothing.
Vael continued.
"When Bahamut sealed the First Weapon, the creature resisted."
The enormous creature trembled.
Vael looked toward it.
"It needed a mind strong enough to bind it."
Dinraal's heart sank.
"No."
Vael closed his eyes.
"Your father gave it a piece his own."
The world seemed to stop.
Dinraal looked toward the creature.
Then back at Vael.
"You're lying."
"I wish I were."
Dinraal grabbed Vael by the front of his armor.
The silver lines beneath Vael's skin flared.
"Then why did he let everyone believe he died?"
Vael's expression twisted.
"Because he did die."
Dinraal released him.
Vael stumbled backward.
"But part of him remained."
Dinraal looked toward the First Weapon.
A scream echoed inside his mind.
DINRAAL!
He froze.
Bahamut's voice was fading.
LISTEN TO ME.
Dinraal closed his eyes.
"I'm listening."
THE ASHEN CANNOT HAVE THE GAUNT.
Dinraal opened his eyes.
"Why?"
The answer came slowly.
As though every word cost Bahamut something.
BECAUSE OF THE DOORS IT CAN OPEN.
Silence.
Dinraal looked toward Vael.
Vael had heard nothing.
Dinraal turned back toward the First Weapon.
"What does that mean?"
Bahamut's voice became almost a whisper.
THE GAUNT IS NOT SIMPLY A WEAPON.
Dinraal stopped breathing.
The Mithril Gaunt burned.
IT WAS MADE TO OPEN THE PATH.
Above the planet, the sky opened.
A new ship entered orbit.
It was small.
Compared to the Chancellor's flagship.
Compared to the Ashen fleet.
Almost insignificant.
The Chancellor stood on the bridge of his vessel.
Every officer around him stared at the tactical display.
"Identify the ship."
The communications officer swallowed.
"No registration."
The ship moved.
Not fast.
It simply appeared closer.
Every defensive system aboard the flagship activated.
The Chancellor's face changed.
For the first time in years—
he looked afraid.
"Open a channel."
No response.
"Again."
Nothing.
The small vessel entered the atmosphere.
The Chancellor whispered a name.
A name no one on the bridge recognized.
"Gilgamesh."
Dinraal stared at the Gaunt.
Earth.
The birthplace of humanity.
The source of the Mithril Gaunt.
Gilgamesh.
Methuselah.
The fewer humans there were, the stronger the survivors became.
And somewhere—
perhaps on a forgotten world no one had seen for millennia—
more legends were still alive.
Or perhaps—
they were already here.
The First Weapon roared.
Bahamut's presence flickered.
HE IS COMING.
Dinraal looked upward.
"Who?"
For the first time, his father's voice sounded afraid.
THE FIRST KING.
The ancient chamber exploded.
A blinding white light tore through the ceiling.
Every soldier—
Draec and Ashen alike—
stopped fighting.
Something descended through the smoke.
A man.
He landed in the center of the battlefield.
The impact cracked the ancient floor.
Dust slowly cleared.
He stood.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
Unarmed.
His dark coat moved in the wind created by his landing.
Dinraal stared.
The stranger slowly looked up.
His eyes settled on Dinraal.
Then the Mithril Gaunt.
He smiled.
"Well."
The man looked around at the ruined chamber.
Then at the First Weapon.
Finally, he returned his attention to Dinraal.
"You people have made an impressive mess of my history."
Dinraal stared.
"Who are you?"
The stranger's smile widened.
Behind him, the First Weapon—
the creature that had terrified an entire army—
slowly lowered its head.
And bowed.
The man's eyes never left Dinraal.
"Gilgamesh."
Silence.
Then Johanna raised her weapon.
Dinraal glanced at her.
"Don't."
Johanna looked at him.
"Why?"
Dinraal stared at the ancient human.
Because for the first time since the battle began—
the Ashen were running.