The horizon seemed to wage its own war against the stars as Boyka's fleet cut through the night sky. The roaring engines of their ships echoed for miles, an ominous harbinger of the storm they carried. The heavens themselves seemed to bow to Boyka's resolve, his unwavering determination igniting the atmosphere with an intensity that even nature dared not oppose.
Boyka sat silently in the cockpit of his ship, his mind a battlefield of its own. For the first time in years, he felt an unfamiliar twinge—worry. It wasn't for himself or his mission but for the safety of Princess Asake.
"My mind quakes," he murmured to himself, his voice low. "I cannot shake this feeling, this unease. Her absence weighs on me like a storm cloud, refusing to dissipate."
He clenched his fists tightly, forcing his focus back to the mission. "I must not let this weakness consume me. I wage war against the stars. I will defeat the sun and shatter the moon if they dare stand in my way. No force in this universe will stop me from bringing her back."
His voice grew louder, his resolve solidifying like iron. "I'll see to Princess Asake's return. No matter the cost, no matter the hurdle, I will see it done."
Boyka's musings were interrupted by the blinking lights of his comm system. The imperial palace loomed on the horizon, its shields shimmering faintly against the night sky.
"Slip through the shields," Boyka ordered, his voice sharp and commanding.
The pilot nodded, expertly maneuvering the ship toward the palace's protective barrier. As the fleet approached, Boyka signaled for his communications officer.
"Connect me with the other ships," he commanded.
"Yes, Commander. You're connected," the officer replied.
Boyka's voice shifted into the coded language of his forces. "Hela, Hela," he said, initiating the signal. "Move your fleet to the imperial prison. I'll rendezvous with you there once my part is done. Prepare to have every prisoner aboard. Show the guards the pass I've provided—it carries Abbadon's forged signature. Do not raise suspicion. I repeat, no bloodshed unless absolutely necessary. Those soldiers are innocent—they're simply following orders."
The reply came swiftly, a chorus of voices speaking in unison. "Yes, sir! Your orders will be followed."
"Good," Boyka said. "I'll create a diversion at the palace to keep their eyes off you. Complete the mission. I trust you."
With that, the fleet split, half heading toward the prison while Boyka's group descended toward the imperial palace.
---
The palace's grand spires glistened under the moonlight, an imposing reminder of Abbadon's reign. Boyka's ship touched down in the palace courtyard, its engines humming softly as it settled. Imperial guards approached, their faces indifferent, unaware of the danger hidden in plain sight.
"Welcome back, soldier," one of the guards said, saluting.
Boyka returned the salute, his expression masked by the stolen imperial uniform he wore. Behind him, his men stood at attention, each one similarly disguised.
"Where's the Regent?" Boyka asked sharply. "I have an urgent report."
"This way," the officer replied, motioning for Boyka to follow.
As they entered the palace, Boyka subtly signaled to his men. A quick hand gesture was all it took for them to understand. They split off in pairs, clearing the corridors of guards as they went.
Boyka followed the officer deeper into the palace, his senses on high alert. The imperial halls were eerily silent, the tension in the air palpable. The moment the officer stopped to open a door, Boyka made his move.
Bang!
The sound of blaster fire echoed through the corridor as the officer fell to the ground, lifeless. Boyka stepped over the body without hesitation, his weapon at the ready.
"Move out," he ordered his men through the comm. "Clear the way. Eliminate any resistance."
The palace erupted into chaos. Blaster fire ricocheted off walls as Boyka's forces engaged the imperial guards. The once-quiet halls were now filled with shouts, screams, and the sharp crack of weapons.
Boyka moved with deadly precision, cutting down anyone who stood in his path. His eyes burned with purpose, his every action calculated.
"Commander," one of his soldiers called through the comm, "we've secured the west wing. No sign of Commander Moyo yet."
"Keep searching," Boyka replied. "Moyo is critical to this mission. We need him alive."
He pressed forward, his boots echoing against the marble floors. A group of imperial soldiers rounded the corner ahead, their weapons drawn.
Bang! Bang!
Boyka fired without hesitation, dropping them in quick succession.
As he advanced, he couldn't help but think of the princess. Her safety was his priority, but Moyo held the information they needed to locate her. Time was running out, and Boyka knew every second counted.
---
Meanwhile, his diversion was working perfectly. The imperial forces were fully engaged in defending the palace, their attention drawn away from the prison. This gave Hela and her team the cover they needed to infiltrate the facility.
Boyka's voice crackled through the comm once more. "Fan out and find Commander Moyo. Kill anyone who gets in your way, but do not lose focus. Moyo is the key."
"Yes, Commander," his men replied, their voices unwavering.
Boyka pressed on, his thoughts a whirlwind of determination and fury. The fire within him burned brighter with every step, driving him forward. He knew that this mission wasn't just about rescuing prisoners or overthrowing Abbadon—it was about reclaiming what had been stolen from him.
With each shot fired, with each enemy that fell, Boyka drew closer to his goal. The stars themselves seemed to tremble in the face of his undying inferno, knowing that nothing could stand in his way.
As the battle raged on, one thing was clear: Boyka would stop at nothing to see his mission through. The imperial palace was only the beginning. The real war was yet to come.