Ethan stayed in the suite long after Krell's departure, the silence stretching out like an unwelcome guest. The hovering chairs had settled back to their default position, the crystalline table wiped clean by the hotel's automated system. Only the faint scent of spiced coffee lingered, a ghost of the tense meeting that had unfolded here hours ago. The room, once filled with political maneuvering and thinly veiled threats, now felt hollow. A stage abandoned after the final act.
He stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, hands buried in the pockets of his coat, watching the city of Valeris sprawl beneath him. The fractured metropolis pulsed with life, people moving through streets lined with scaffolding and half-repaired buildings. Workers in bright exo-rigs hoisted beams into place, their limbs whirring as they welded structures back together. Ships wove through the sky like metallic birds, leaving streaks of light as they zipped between landing platforms. Even now, even after everything, the city refused to die. They were rebuilding, brick by fragile brick, as if willing Kynara to breathe again.
And somehow, he'd become part of that equation.
A symbol of peace.
The idea felt foreign, like armor that didn't quite fit. It clung to him awkwardly, heavy and uncomfortable. He wasn't a statesman. He wasn't a hero. He was just a man who had stumbled into a war he never wanted to fight. A random salaryman from Earth, dragged into this brutal new reality when the Black Sun Syndicate's influence had devoured the planet. He'd taken up a gun and became a merc out of necessity, fought not for glory but because survival didn't come for free. He'd done what was necessary to keep himself alive at first, then came to care about the people who fought alongside him and the planet he was living in. Together, they carved out slivers of hope on a planet that had been teetering on the edge of collapse.
And yet, now his name would be tied to this place for probably eternity. Plastered onto treaties, political speeches, Kynaran history and maybe even entire settlements. The man who helped end the Syndicate's reign and broker an alliance with Ashen Prime to rebuild Kynara.
He pressed his forehead lightly against the glass, the cool surface grounding him. His breath fogged the window, a small bloom of condensation that faded as quickly as it appeared. He wondered if the people down there would curse his name someday, if the fragile peace collapsed and blood soaked the streets again. Would they spit on his memory? Blame him for the cracks that formed in the alliance? Or would they simply forget after he left ? Let his name fade into the background like the static hum of the city?
Maybe that was better.
He'd never wanted to be remembered.
The truth was, he wasn't built for staying, for planting roots in scorched earth. He was a drifter, bound to the endless expanse of space, to the cold solitude of his ship.
He watched the city for a long while, the neon lights reflecting faintly in his tired eyes. Part of him felt envious of the people of Kynara. Their fight was over. His, perhaps, was just beginning.
He turned away from the window, shoulders heavy as he crossed the room. The suite, pristine and luxurious, felt like a cage. A place meant for men like Krell, not for people like him.
Eventually, Ethan sank back into the chair, its floating mechanism adjusting subtly to cradle his weight. He exhaled slowly, rubbing his eyes before pulling his information tablet from his jacket. The sleek device powered on with a muted hum, the screen's soft glow illuminating the lines of exhaustion carved into his face. He thumbed through the encrypted logs with practiced ease, bypassing layers of security protocols until he reached what he was looking for.
The transfer was already complete.
20 million credits. Deposited into his account with cold, clinical precision. No message. No fanfare. Just a number, stark and indifferent. A reward for surviving, for doing what most wouldn't, or couldn't. The bounty for ending the Black Sun Syndicate leader's life.
Ethan stared at the figure, his jaw tightening as he absently ran his fingers across the stubble on his face. He should've felt something...relief, satisfaction, maybe even greed. But all he felt was numbness, like the weight of the credits had settled in his chest instead of his account.
What the hell was he even supposed to do with that kind of money?
Upgrading the ship was pointless. Ashen Prime's engineers would be crawling over it soon enough, outfitting it with state-of-the-art tech, enhancements he couldn't buy even with this kind of payout. It was a way of ensuring he stayed alive out there, as they still needed to show the people Kynara how well they treated their hero. The thought irritated him, but he couldn't deny the benefit. His ship would come out of it a beast, faster, stronger, and deadlier than it had ever been.
So that option was off the table.
His mind drifted to Kynara's relief efforts. He thought about funneling some of the credits back into the broken outposts and settlements still clawing their way out of ruin. But it felt pointless. A drop in an endless ocean. No matter how much he gave, it wouldn't scratch the surface of what the planet needed...infrastructure, medical supplies, food, and, most of all, stability. And with Ashen Prime's resources now flowing in like a tidal wave, his contribution would be a grain of sand next to a mountain.
Only huge sums of money beyond his imagination and time would fix Kynara.
That left... himself.
Weapons. Gadgets. A new tactical suit. Things he could actually use. As Krell had said, Ashen Prime station would have everything he was looking for, and at a discount, no less. If he was going to be a symbol of peace, whether he liked it or not, he might as well be armed to the teeth while carrying that burden.
Better weapons. Better armor. Better odds.
He rolled the tablet between his fingers before shutting it down, the screen fading to black. He slid the device back into his jacket, leaning his head against the chair's cushioned rest.
The bounty was just numbers on a screen. What really mattered was what he chose to do with it next to ease his life in this vast galaxy.