Despite being in the first quadrant of the safe zone, Jordan was still over two kilometers from the maglev stations on the northern side. A distance that'd take far more time than he was comfortable with to traverse on foot. Even if the low gravity allowed him to comically leap into the sky, over buildings or around the towering shuttles landed at the center. He was skeptical the knight would still be on campaign by the time he arrived.

And so, after being seen off by Gelos, Jordan briskly raked at the surface with his boots and the butt of his spear, faster and faster to steadily propel himself towards the station until, one by one, the concentric rails of the boarding platform crept from behind the horizon's veil so that their light fell onto Jordan's helmet. Into the near-microscopic scale sensors and cameras lining his helmet's exterior, to be subsequently transmitted to Jordan's eye scanners and neural interface.

The station resembled a band of thick, metallic veins; or a ribbon made of a dozen cables that stretched to either side of Jordan to warp and curve above the surface. Contouring across the furrows and depressessions and lumped hills that riddled Ganymede's landscape until they seamlessly melded with the black sky at the horizons to his east and west.

It was a piece of infrastructure that any eye would assume didn't belong on first sight. Juxtaposed harshly against the rocky-ice making up its foundation. To Jordan, it was distinctly alien. Distinctly human. A structure that tainted a surface as old as the solar system itself, with humanity's hubris.

Jordan mindlessly pulled himself along a catwalk, perhaps wide enough for four people to stand on side-by-side, that stretched over the rails from north to south. At the two furthest rails, he stepped down into a trapdoor-style airlock on the dorsal side of the closest, curiously tall and comically stubby train cabin.

Once sealed in the central chamber, the pressing clouds of gas slowly thickened and finally settled around Jordan's body before a door to his front loudly hissed open. Revealing a relatively cramped cabin filled only with dual seats along each wall.

Despite all the things currently troubling him, Jordan found himself holding his breath as he seated himself and transmitted his destination in to the cabin's system.

He hadn't remembered seeing many people around the platforms before he entered. That being said, he hadn't been paying much attention to his surroundings in the first place; he had to admit, since he'd parted ways with Gelos earlier.

Mentally, Jordan had been preoccupied with other things: Suppressing the mounting excitement of his long awaited opportunity finally falling within reach. Acknowledging the ever-present reminders of his recent mistakes, the likes of which were bound to the burden that he now carried in his hands and used to further his goals. And striving to remain indifferent to the pressure of expectation cast upon him by the likes of his Father, the Clan, Gelos, and everyone else who'd recognize his name.

Physically, his sole concern had been locomotion. His body found itself absorbed in the task of transporting itself from Jordan's destination to that of the Saturnian Knight's as quickly as it could. His heart quaked as if he were already on campaign. Enthralled in the brutal, soundless battles for the sake of his life; for the sake of Merit. It battered away in his chest with a berserkers rage. Flooded the veins and arteries in his face and neck with hot blood as the fluid was pushed into his face with each forceful throb to invoke a harmonic echo within Jordan's helmet. Sparking a panic; a sense of urgency; a blind, sporadic hastiness mixed with a zealous lust to conjure from the depths of his mind and spread fire throughout his body. Adrenalizing his already energized muscles.

He was an engine. Throttled to its breaking limits. Fueled by childish will and steering for the borders of an insane word. Impeded by Jordan's strained mental pressure to keep it in bay and the immense distance that stretched between himself and his destination. As well as the infrastructure set in place that seemed to delay him as much as it assisted him.

[Departing for Safe Zone Seven.]

Jordan untensed at the sound of the announcement. Yet impatiently repeated the process in reverse after unceremoniously riding to the new Safe Zone. He dismounted, skipped across the ice past the various quadrants towards the southern face of the zone. To the array of launch pads pointing in seemingly random directions where he hastily rechecked the knights location and clambered onto the same launch pad she'd used hours prior.

With a now-familiar, but no less violent kick, Jordan was simultaneously propelled across the surface as an eerie silence enveloped him. Seemingly washing the tension, pressure and worry from his body as if it weren't there in the first place.

Though he should've been grateful for the infrastructure being in place, he pondered. It had reduced his transit time to mere hours, instead of the days it'd have taken to hop across the moon's surface by foot.

If he were free as he wanted to be, however. If he had Merit. 'Hopping' across the moon; or to any moon, would be as easily done as said. All but preventing the sickening haste that plagued his body from the irrational fear of his target forever escaping his grasp. An irrational fear that even now, consumed him as he drifted meters above the ice toward that very target.

Post painful lithobraking, Jordan cautiously hopped clear of the landing zone while scanning the horizon for the Knight. Bodies met his eyes everywhere they fell. Even near the base of the landing zone, they were seen. Bent and broken. Slowly radiating their heat away into space. Though the knight or any other living being was yet unseen, Jordan could clearly see the deep purple domain a few hundred meters off to his right. Spread over the surface like a dense, purple mist.

[Campaign Zone Entered: Domain Keeper.]

Jordan ignored both the notification and the light blue aura of shadow shadows that glitching to life beneath him seconds after as he leapt towards the violet domain. Scanning the horizon voraciously until he saw the Knight, standing proudly in the same fashion as their last encounter. Proudly poised with gauntleted fist resting on her waist.

Upon establishing visual contact, the Knight suddenly threw their hands up, as if excited, before tapping at the ear of her helmet with her finger.

After seconds of silent approach and watching the Law repeat the motion, Jordan's eyes lit up with a chat invitation.

"I had hopes you'd return!" The Knight's raspy, feminine voice beamed once the connection was established.

Jordan was taken aback by the sound of her voice. It was... strange, to Jordan's ears. Not by tone, but by accent. Corny. As if mimicked from an old terrestrial movie or the ancient empires of Earth. Overtly civil. Too proper and inherently arrogant. Pompous.

"And why's that?" Jordan asked, hesitantly.

"You were lost that day, yes?" She beamed as her gauntleted hands trailing circles around her head. "I surmised you had drifted into this... zone, somehow? You were but a frightened cub at that time. Isolated from your pride. Unlike the others to face me, you stood defiantly. You struggled; trembled, with fear whilst fighting. Tenaciously, to the bitter end." Her fist returned her hips as her chest began bulking silently. Then the hoarse laughter began to screech over the radio in tune.

"So, I impressed you?" Jordan couldn't help but laugh himself. "Scared and fighting for my life? That's what makes the cut?"

"No such thing has been done yet, young Galilean. I am only curious." The knight bellowed with laughter. "Tell me. What are you called?"

'Strange way to ask for a name.' He scoffed to himself. Then bowed politely at the waist. "Jordan Astros. 27th child of the Astros Clan. E-Ranked citizen of the Galilean Powers."

Surprisingly to Jordan, the Knight bowed in turn. Not a strange salute, a knee or some other fantastical gesture. But a pivot at the waist until her chest was parallel to the surface. Just as he had done.

"I am Quinn Law." She boomed proudly. "Field Marshal of the House of Dieujuste."

'What a mouthful.' Jordan snorted to himself. 'And... wait. Marshal Law? Seriously??'

"So, what does a Field Marshal want with me?" Jordan asked. "I assume you're high up the chain?"

The Knight responded with the universal EVA-talk for 'no.' A shake of the fist from side-to-side. "I fear, I am not at liberty to detail at length, Astros," she said coldly. "I can only say you are a part of a... personal project, of mine."

Her voice trailed off absently towards the end. As if it were a topic she weren't particularly happy to discuss out loud. Or one she was embarrassed about. Regardless, Jordan's blood pressure flared at the sound of her words.

"I'm just a pawn to you?" He spat into his helmet.

"Such things are hardly worth wasting energy over, Astros," the Field Marshal said in her same cold, calm tone. "Being a Galilean, you of all people should be aware - Very few have the privilege of a birthplace higher than the few lowest rungs. For all else, life starts as an insignificant pawn. For even a future monarch of an unfounded kingdom begins their journey as one."

"That's hardly consoling." Jordan snorted.

"Life hardly is. Unless you live in Arxis." The Knight seemed bemused with her seemingly cryptic reply. "I hope you find consolation in the fact that my plan benefits you, as well."

'This'll be interesting.' Jordan smiled to himself.

"How so?"

Jordan could hear the smile in her voice as she replied. "My only answer is what you have already surmised. And that is indeed the case, Jordan Astros."

'Mmcht' Jordan sucked his teeth before he replied. But paused after witnessing the knight crouching into a guard.

"I must admit." With her little finger, the Field Marshal pointed to the spear clutched in Jordan's hands. "Vel suits you quite well."

"Yeah, well. I'll admit that I've grown quite fond of it. Having risen from the grave with it, and all." Jordan squared up with the knight and began settling into his stance. "I almost hate to have to leave it with you."

"Admirable!" She screamed as she charged.

Jordan hesitated before gripping the spear with both hands and thrusting forward. Surprised from the apparently simple, easily defendable maneuver employed by his foe, Jordan's concentration lapsed just before the blade made contact.

His thoughts were quickly rendered moot as the spear impacted the chest plate with a sharp ring that reverberated along the haft. Dampening as they rippled through Jordan's arms.

As if nothing happened, the knight continued rushing forward. Fist cocked underneath her as she stepped into range with a powerful stomp to launch the massive gauntlet up into Jordan's sternum with a resounding crack. The sensation caved in his chest, rung through his body even after he was lifted backwards from the ice.

Even as the knight began to tilt away from his jarred field of view, Jordan fought against the blossoming pain to maintain his grip on the spear. Just as the last feelings of solidity trailed from the soles of his boots, the weapon clenched in his hand wrenched taut at an unnatural angle. Below the blade, the knight's gloved hands coiled tightly as she held the weapon out at arms length above her head. And in one smooth motion, yanked it down behind her feet.

Yoinking Jordan down into the ice face first.

Along with the obligatory ringing now sounding in his helmet by influence of the impact, a sharp stinging sensation swelled around Jordan's mouth and nose from his face implanting onto his helmets inner-shell. Followed closely in tune by the pungent stench of iron swarming Jordan's helmet and a clammy moisture pooling around his face.

A moment later, his body followed his heads momentum. It crumpled against the surface like a wave of flesh before violently rebounding up into the knights descending fist. Only to be pummeled back into the ice. To bounce of the surface one more towards Law's oncoming fist head on. Again. And again. Her gauntleted beaters glimmering brightly in the faint sunlight for a seemingly endless second each time she reared overhead in preparation to drill Jordan's ribcage with another meteoric boom.

After the last, deafening blow, Jordan felt himself tumbling. Where; rotating in what direction, he wasn't aware of. His mind was consumed by the pulsing pain pestering his chest and face without mercy.

Jordan's tumble violently halted as the knight shoved his body down during her graceful return to the surface. Still suspended above the ice, she hooked one of her feet under Jordan's torso before proceeding to kick on his ribs with the other. Once. Twice. Thrice. Each blow felt like a rain of tungsten rods concentrated onto his ribs. As if she were hell bent on stomping her own foot to oblivion, but Jordan's body assisted to stand in the way. Each successive impact was delayed by a fraction of a second as a result of their changing motion. Just long enough for Jordan's anticipatory brace to come a moment too soon. Allowing the full strength of her assault to be compressed onto his ribs. To drive them both to the ground like a starship propulsed by nuclear detonations.

During the onslaught, Jordan could neither block nor wriggle free. He could only quiver in place. Spasm in pain helplessly while his body tried to contour around the cavernous blows. Only to stiffen and recurve in the opposite direction against the pressure of the boot protruding beneath him.

As the unmistakable embrace of the ground settled beneath them, Jordan felt the knight's plated boot snake from under him. Through his jarred vision, he saw a glistening leg rear behind the knight's body just before the pointed boot swung forward in a blur to cave in Jordan's stomach.

While tumbling along the ice, Jordan feebly tried to cradle his body in a meek attempt to protect what was left of his body. With each bounce, the hisses of pain and moist coughing intensified and trailed off as his body slowly lost its kinetic energy. Rendering him sprawled on the ground, grimacing and shaking in pain once that energy was spent.

As far as damage, many of his ribs on both sides were pulverized, he was sure. On top of that, his nose was possibly broken and a few teeth were knocked loose. He felt as if his cybernetic stomach and liver were dented. Caved in and cracked. Ready to leak acids and other chemicals into his gut at a moments notice.

As for him, he hadn't even managed a single hit.

'All that, from one engagement.' Jordan attempted a wry snort. But only managed to a few more painful convulsions on the ground.

"W- what did they put in you?" Jordan gagged through the pain. Splattering wet coughs all around the interior of his helmet as he scrambled to his feet.

It was impossible for a baseline human to generate that much power from such an unsupported, unpropulsed kick. Pointed, armored boots or not, it felt like her bones were harder than diamond, denser than tungsten. Jordan imagined her muscles to be like steel cables stretched to their tensile limits. Snapping on command in order to release their potential energy in the form of a punt. For all intents and purposes, her actual musculature was probably something similar. The Saturnian Empire had long been known as the most advanced Solar Nation in terms of manufacturing and technology. And that was only considering what the general public was aware of. Only a fool would assume they'd leave their knights lacking.

"Hah!" Field Marshal, Quinn Law laughed boisterously over the comms. "Only the finest found in Her Majesty's inventory."

Jordan attempted to gag out another reply but decided to save his strength instead. Rising to his feet, he stood cautiously against the knight. Eyes darting along her armor, from foot to helm, in search of weak points. The only ones being the obvious: Areas left unprotected for the sake of mobility. The base of the neck, armpits, backs of the knees and groin. Many places difficult to reach by means of a spear.

'Now I see what Gelos meant. Daggers would be great right now.' Jordan thrusted out the spear with a grit of the teeth after the knight approached the edge of Jordan's range.

The knight swung hard with the back of her fist to parry the spear. Then continued with slaps and backfists against Jordan's flurry of thrusts. Deflecting each attack with ease while she continued to gain steady ground, even as Jordan continued kicking against the ground in front of him to retreat backwards with hard kicks against the ice.

After the knight fell within a few meters' range, Jordan poised the spear out by his right side before swinging it around toward her neck as hard as he could. A glint of light flashed along Jordan's helmet before the spear jarred to a stunning halt. Jordan hadn't even glanced at the blade clenched in the knights hand before he reared back his left. Only to snap it forward prematurely in order to catch an oncoming strike with an open palm. While grasping the knights fist with his left and readjusting his grasp on the spear with his right, Jordan pulled his legs up towards his chest while before pulling himself towards the knight with all his strength. Extending his leg and pushing through with his hips in the process, he drove the blade of his foot directly into the knight's throat.

Despite the assured force behind the kick, the knight took a solid step back to absorb the impact. While releasing her grasp of the spear in favor of Jordan's ankle, she twisted hard on her heels. The rising, crushing pressure around his foot caused Jordan's leg to tense taut just before his body surged. Swung wildly in an arc around the knight before slapping against the ground like a massive sack of ice.

Jordan's body crunched and coiled in pain after his back violently met the rippled surface. Waves of anguish and pain bloomed through Jordan's body while he desperately squirmed to right himself in the air. To face his opponent. To face them and at least land another blow. To not lose more merit than he knew he would.

Just after righting himself, the knight quickly sidestepped into range with a hammerfist swung from overhead. Setting his feet deep into the ice, Jordan lunged toward the newly exposed armpit with hysterical confidence. Without delay, the knight simultaneously planted her feet into the ground while reaching forth with her rear hand to grasp the spears hilt. She tugged violently on Jordan while recocking her free hand, ultimately bringing Jordan's sternum to a deadly intersection with her armored fist.

Accompanied with a wet splatter that resounded around his head, Jordan regrettably felt the air forcefully vacate from his lungs. His body quaked as the knight continued pummeling his torso upwards. Forcing him higher and higher into the sky, over the knight's head with each numbling, consecutive blow.

Jordan's fleeting thoughts of releasing the spear were nullified, after the knight once again grabbed hold of his ankle to slam him into the ground with a resounding clap.

As his back reunited with the rocky-iced surface, Jordan felt as if his consciousness; the intangible, massless energy that drove his body, continued along through the ice. Carried along by the momentum generated by the knight's throw. His body felt like an almost foreign entity. A mere presence at the edge of his consciousness, unable to be moved or influenced in any way. By conscious, or unconscious means.

In the blurred world encroaching his vision, Jordan saw the knight drifting slowly, down to a standing position just above his body.

Jordan fought within the swampy realm of his fading to fight. He tenaciously; desperately, screamed, internally, to claw, punch, kick or spit at her. To raise the spear in a last act of defiance. To make physical contact with her one more time. To accomplish something more. Anything more.

Yet, his body protested. Went on strike from any and all stimuli, commands, or reaction. No feeling, no impulse, no movement. No pain. Fell through Jordan's cloud of awareness. Only the manic, mental screams being drowned out by the darkness swarming around him.

"No fear, Jordan Astros." The knight's grizzly, yet soothing voice gracefully weaved through the dense, necrotic clouds to tug at Jordan's awareness. "Though my weapon remains outside of my possession, I'll honor you by expediting your end."

Despite the coldness of her words, her voice radiated a compassionate gentleness that Jordan had only heard from the lips of his family members. In an instant, it enveloped his mind in its embrace. Vanquishing the fighting spirit and blind, battle driven rage within him with an almost divine authority.

Slowly, the knight settled on Jordan's stomach. Achieving the mount, she carefully tilted Jordan's head upwards to expose his throat.

With a gauntleted fist glimmering on Jordan's chest, the Field Marshal raised her fist high overhead before pausing, almost ceremoniously. Then rained her fist down onto Jordan's chest with all her mass following it.

Jordan stared through the distant window of his fleeting consciousness with a morbid curiosity. At his dying body, undulating as if a large stone were thrown into a pool of water that represented his flesh. Her strength was obvious. Heartily demonstrated during this engagement and the last.

Jordan watched as she reared back again to deliver another blow to his neck. The blows were heavy. Unmerciful. Ridiculously accurate. A lot more than anyone he'd ever seen. Yet the pain was distant. Insignificant.

Nonexistent.

His body undulated again on the third strike. Thickening the looming cloud around his windows to reality. Until they resembled only a faint point of light settled in a sea of darkness.

'Am... I. Paralyzed?' Jordan thought to himself as the light flickered into oblivion. 'Yeah... And. I'm. ...'

[Warning! Flatline!]

***

'Internals, supporting skeletature. That only leaves...' Quinn Law's thoughts trailed as she rose to her feet and stepped aside to gaze down upon the young Galilean, still gripping her spear tightly in his lifeless grips. "Jordan Astros..." A soft chuckle resounded in her helm along with the words.

After exploring the Jovian moon, keeping her juniors from exploring too far into the habitat and stickling the imperials stationed at the Embassy of Worlds, Quinn had grown veritably bored of her tour in the Galilean Powers. What was a pristeen opportunity for experience for the likes of her subordinates served only as an exploratory sabbatical for herself. It hadn't even been a third of the way through the experience before she'd grown tired of the place. Convinced that the King's assumption had proven true. She'd openly waltzed the Embassy whilst mirroring the shared opinions of many of her peers. Tactlessly explaining to any Saturnian who'd listen about how campaigning in the Powers was a waste of time for any knight above the lowest levels. Parading on about how Jupiter's hedonistic spawn held no benefits for them. How they'd taint their way of life and spread it throughout the Empire upon their return.

To an extent, it was true. Their way of life, so bizzare when compared to a Saturnians, was a direct cause of their beloved Merit system. Only when they were guaranteed to acclaim their points would they engage in conflict. Lest fleeing or avoidance was the most expected outcome from the rank chasers. It sickened every Saturnian Knight under Law's command that such concepts extended to every other facet of life one could mentally conjure.

Regardless of such truths, the Field Marshal couldn't deny the potential advantage the Galilean Powers presented before the Empire's ranks: Real combat experience with no national aggression.

She'd surmised that with the right motives seeded into the minds of their young, a battalion of Galileans who cared not for Merit would rise throughout the Powers to challenge her Majesty's Imperial Army.

Bringing tremendous growth to both parties, in terms of combat prowess.

After many failures however, the Field Marshal had grown disheartened. With the exception of those taking part in these games, Galilean's who'd once encountered her, liberally avoided another confrontation.

Quinn had been apprehensive to take part in the customs of Ganymede upon hearing of them. To leave something as cherished as a weapon in the hands of a soon-to-be healed opponent was sacrilege in her Monarchy of origin. Yet, after their first encounter, Quinn strangely found herself amused and curiously fond of the young, metal-armed Galilean. Surely, he wasn't the first rookie to stumble across her path since her arrival. Yet, he was certainly one of the few to stand their ground in a pitiless fight to the death.

On a whim, she'd decided to go along with their crude customs and left her weapon impaled within the Galilean's flesh. Then proceeded back to the Embassy to promptly take considerable precautions in order to ensure that King Vaher would never hear of her sacrilegious actions.

The ocular announcement detailing that the Galilean had taken ownership of the weapon was the first true highlight of her tour. Still, she'd managed to suppress her mounting glee. Up until the moment she caught sight of the young Galilean, cresting the horizon with her spear slung over his shoulder like a crude hunting weapon. The sight causing her aged bones to swell with excitement for the first time in over a Saturnian-year and throw all sense of modesty out the window with a single expression of the arms.

Despite her words prior to their duel, Quinn Law was more than impressed with Jordan; even after their first encounter alone. His willingness to engage in an obviously one sided battle was surely enough to question his sanity, a trait certainly required to fulfil her aims. Additionally, the improvements shown after the short length of time just couldn't be ignored by the seasoned eyes of the Field Marshal. She knew aptitude when she saw it. And was almost compelled to act upon it with impatient haste. To polish any rough gem she laid eyes on into a radiant stone blinding to all who'd dare lay their eyes upon it.

Quinn sighed heavily as she closed out their comms channel and began composing a voice message.

This was the hard part. The part that she'd denied would happen, should her plans succeed. The irony hit her like a wall as she stood there. Producing a taste more bitter than hops-flavored bile in the back of her throat.

'I've spent all this time, yearning for home.' Quinn sighed as her head shook despairingly. 'Now...'

"Dear, Jordan Astros," She boomed in her usual, proud tone after another heavy, composing sigh. "You've proven yourself to be quite the formidable cub. I know not of your dreams. I assume however, that strength remains the key to achieving them?" She paused to stare at his corpse, as if he could reply at any second. "Continue to face me in battle. Continue to dive into the abyss. And you'll have my word that strength, and more, will be well within your grasp. To prove your devotion to this cause, remain in possession of my spear. Dedicate yourself to training, until my return to the Galilean Powers. And in one terrestrial year, you'll face me again. And return to me my spear."