The Battle of Sigma Ustali, World Forger (3)

Grinding over stardust, the two ships hurtled silently through the vacuum. They had streamlined silhouettes and beautiful silver hulls unlike Imperial vessels, and lacked the heavy Gothic style. Yet the Imperial Aquila gleamed at the prow of each ship.

Steve breathed steadily, again and again, not changing his breathing pattern just because a great battle was imminent. After so many battles, there was one thing he had long since committed to heart.

Those who could not stay calm had no right to win a war.

"My lord."

Sicarius lowered his head respectfully. "The Glyph Array reports that we have entered the edge of the Octarius Sector."

Steve nodded, then suddenly asked a seemingly unrelated question. "How do you feel, Sicarius?"

".What, my lord?"

Sicarius looked up blankly, as if he had not heard what Steve had asked. The Second Captain thought there was something wrong with his ears, but Steve's next words told him: no, your ears are perfectly fine.

"I said, how do you feel?"

Steve looked at him patiently. "With a great battle about to begin, do you feel anything in particular?"

"This—my lord, I feel nothing."

Sicarius decided to tell the truth. He had never lied to Steve. "Since long ago, I have felt no anticipation or revulsion toward battles that are about to begin. To me, it is more like part of the natural order, as natural as eating or breathing. It is my instinct, our instinct."

You are all so broken.

Steve looked at him with pity, and that gaze abruptly made Sicarius feel a sting in his nose. He had long since lost the right and the ability to weep, but Steve's psionic power was sharing his pity with him without reservation.

"My lord," Sicarius said in a trembling voice. "Your power."

"Oh!"

Steve