Chapter 67
The chamber was silent, save for the low hum of the ship's core.
Sulfur stood at its center—alone, shirtless, sweat dripping from his shoulders, steam rising from his skin. The gravity was heavier here. Artificially increased. The kind of training only apostles could endure.
Across from him floated a slab of starforged alloy—denser than neutron steel.
His right hand opened.
The blade came to him—a pulse of dark light forming along his wrist, unfurling like a serpent. It hissed with condensed heat. Not forged metal. Pure Viora.
"Again," he whispered.
The air cracked.
In a single motion, he struck. The alloy plate split in half, a molten line bubbling across its center. The halves dropped with a clang—but Sulfur was already moving again.
Dodge. Step. Pivot. Slash.