Andrew
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- RP Date
- YE 46.8
- RP Location
- UNN Aylerion
Jun felt the edges of consciousness blur, exhaustion gnawing at him with each passing second. His scrubs were stained with blood, smeared across his body like battle scars, while his double-gloved hands were more blackish green than the blue synthetic material they were meant to be. Sixteen hours under the harsh glow of the surgery module’s lamps had pushed him to the brink, yet he continued without pause. In any ordinary case, the patient would have been left to die, their body restored by the IDE, a process that could reverse even the most catastrophic injuries. But this was no ordinary case.
The red-highlighted text projected from the IDE module to his right continued to flash ominously: "Do Not Restore." The command reflected a decision that left no room for reprieve, a direct order sealing the patient's fate in a way that even modern science could not undo. The weight of that decision hung heavy in the sterile air, reminding Jun that there would be no second chances, no miraculous resets. He was all that stood between life and death now, with exhaustion clawing at his resolve and the stakes higher than ever.
Extensive procedures had been written for this very incident, a possibility he had anticipated ever since the failure to restore his mother, followed by the chaos surrounding that strange, elusive woman—Ves, or whatever her name had been. He struggled to remember it, as she had been part of some delusion, dream, or vision—depending on what people chose to call it that week. Today had not unfolded as planned; he doubted anyone had foreseen such a day. With a heavy sigh, he shook his head, peeling off his blood-soaked gloves, each movement weighed down by fatigue and grief.
Activating the ship's internal communication system, his voice was steady, though drained of emotion, as he spoke. "Medical to Bridge. You’ll need to change the ship’s call sign. The phoenix has been extinguished..." He closed his eyes as he severed the channel, knowing he didn’t need to hear their response. His part was done, though the weight of it clung to him—his father’s blood covered him from nearly head to toe, a stain not just on his body but on his memory. It was a day he would carry with him for the rest of his life, a day etched into the history of the Imperium, perhaps even beyond its borders.
Traditionally, the heir would have been the first to be notified, but Uaeso had made his stance clear—he had no intention of taking the throne. With no other willing child of Tetsuya stepping forward, the burden now fell on Sylix Lunari, the only other member of the family endowed with the celestial mandate. Sylix, one of the political wives of the now-deceased Jol'Aestaesys, would find soon find herself thrust into a position no one had anticipated. Chaos loomed on the horizon, as nothing like this had ever unfolded in the history of their people.
Jun, for his part, felt no regret for having declined the throne long before this tragedy struck. The weight of the crown had never been something he coveted, and now, as the shockwaves of Tetsuya’s death rippled through the Imperium, he felt a strange sense of relief at being removed from the storm that was about to descend. Still, he knew that what lay ahead for Sylix and the Imperium would be unprecedented—an era marked by uncertainty, one that could reshape everything they knew.
Only a select few were privy to Uaeso and the remaining Eitans' plan, and for now, that knowledge would be kept silent, veiled until the reading of their fallen leader's will—a moment that would not come for days. Jun, however, already understood what many did not: his father had made it abundantly clear that the Eitan Ysi was no longer part of the future. That, though, was a concern for another time.
For now, he remained where he was, standing in the crimson pool that had formed beneath the operating table, blood still trickling in slow, relentless streams. The chamber doors were sealed, a silent reminder that he was not allowed to leave, despite every fiber of his being yearning for escape. He stood frozen in that macabre scene, bound by duty and drenched in the weight of what had just occurred, knowing that this was only the beginning of a much darker chapter.
How had it come to this? Jun's mind spun, replaying the events from the beginning of the day, searching for a moment when everything had begun to unravel. It seemed impossible that the morning, with its routine calm, had led to this—a day drenched in blood and irrevocable change. Every detail flickered through his thoughts like a fragmented reel, a series of decisions, words spoken and unspoken, actions taken and avoided.
He combed through them, trying to pinpoint the precise instant when the course had shifted, when fate had taken this dark turn. But no matter how many times he traced the path, the answer eluded him. It was as though the day had slipped from his control long before he even realized it, cascading toward a tragedy he had been powerless to stop.
Another countdown ticked away in his mind...what came next would shape the future.
The red-highlighted text projected from the IDE module to his right continued to flash ominously: "Do Not Restore." The command reflected a decision that left no room for reprieve, a direct order sealing the patient's fate in a way that even modern science could not undo. The weight of that decision hung heavy in the sterile air, reminding Jun that there would be no second chances, no miraculous resets. He was all that stood between life and death now, with exhaustion clawing at his resolve and the stakes higher than ever.
Extensive procedures had been written for this very incident, a possibility he had anticipated ever since the failure to restore his mother, followed by the chaos surrounding that strange, elusive woman—Ves, or whatever her name had been. He struggled to remember it, as she had been part of some delusion, dream, or vision—depending on what people chose to call it that week. Today had not unfolded as planned; he doubted anyone had foreseen such a day. With a heavy sigh, he shook his head, peeling off his blood-soaked gloves, each movement weighed down by fatigue and grief.
Activating the ship's internal communication system, his voice was steady, though drained of emotion, as he spoke. "Medical to Bridge. You’ll need to change the ship’s call sign. The phoenix has been extinguished..." He closed his eyes as he severed the channel, knowing he didn’t need to hear their response. His part was done, though the weight of it clung to him—his father’s blood covered him from nearly head to toe, a stain not just on his body but on his memory. It was a day he would carry with him for the rest of his life, a day etched into the history of the Imperium, perhaps even beyond its borders.
Traditionally, the heir would have been the first to be notified, but Uaeso had made his stance clear—he had no intention of taking the throne. With no other willing child of Tetsuya stepping forward, the burden now fell on Sylix Lunari, the only other member of the family endowed with the celestial mandate. Sylix, one of the political wives of the now-deceased Jol'Aestaesys, would find soon find herself thrust into a position no one had anticipated. Chaos loomed on the horizon, as nothing like this had ever unfolded in the history of their people.
Jun, for his part, felt no regret for having declined the throne long before this tragedy struck. The weight of the crown had never been something he coveted, and now, as the shockwaves of Tetsuya’s death rippled through the Imperium, he felt a strange sense of relief at being removed from the storm that was about to descend. Still, he knew that what lay ahead for Sylix and the Imperium would be unprecedented—an era marked by uncertainty, one that could reshape everything they knew.
Only a select few were privy to Uaeso and the remaining Eitans' plan, and for now, that knowledge would be kept silent, veiled until the reading of their fallen leader's will—a moment that would not come for days. Jun, however, already understood what many did not: his father had made it abundantly clear that the Eitan Ysi was no longer part of the future. That, though, was a concern for another time.
For now, he remained where he was, standing in the crimson pool that had formed beneath the operating table, blood still trickling in slow, relentless streams. The chamber doors were sealed, a silent reminder that he was not allowed to leave, despite every fiber of his being yearning for escape. He stood frozen in that macabre scene, bound by duty and drenched in the weight of what had just occurred, knowing that this was only the beginning of a much darker chapter.
How had it come to this? Jun's mind spun, replaying the events from the beginning of the day, searching for a moment when everything had begun to unravel. It seemed impossible that the morning, with its routine calm, had led to this—a day drenched in blood and irrevocable change. Every detail flickered through his thoughts like a fragmented reel, a series of decisions, words spoken and unspoken, actions taken and avoided.
He combed through them, trying to pinpoint the precise instant when the course had shifted, when fate had taken this dark turn. But no matter how many times he traced the path, the answer eluded him. It was as though the day had slipped from his control long before he even realized it, cascading toward a tragedy he had been powerless to stop.
Another countdown ticked away in his mind...what came next would shape the future.
