The spaceship eased into its designated docking bay within the towering structure of the Kernel Tower. It was the only place with appropriate technology to heal Ashton. At least that's what Flintmace had told them.
As the vessel came to a rest, its thrumming engines settling into a gentle hum, the doors to the bay hissed open, revealing a team of medical staff that had been assembled to receive the wounded.
They were a dedicated and skilled group, their white coats pristine, their faces etched with calm, completely contrasting with those inside the ship.
Mazton, the Vice President of the Kernel Tower, led the medical team. Before confronting Kro'Han, Flintmace had called Mazton and told him to be prepared to receive Ashton as he would need all their attention.
"I hope we're not too late," Mazton whispered under his breath.
His sharp eyes scanned the interior of the spaceship as he awaited the arrival of its occupants. One by one, the team disembarked from the spacecraft, their faces etched with exhaustion, relief, and grief.
Anna, the tears from her earlier breakdown still staining her cheeks, exited with Irina and Verina by her side. Vimur and Laihud followed, their expressions heavy with the burden of recent events and then came the guardians.
Mazton's gaze, however, sought out two figures that were conspicuously absent. Fearing the worst, he approached Vimur, his voice filled with concern.
"Where are Flintmace and Vulcan?" he inquired, his brows furrowing with worry.
Vimur's response was a solemn shake of his head. No words were needed to convey the weight of the news. Flintmace and Vulcan were no longer among the living.
It was a loss that struck deep into the heart of the Kernel Tower, for they had been revered figures, symbols of strength and wisdom.
"No... how- I- FUCK!" Mazton cursed loudly.
Mazton's expression fell, his usually composed demeanour slipping for a moment as he absorbed the shocking revelation. Mazton found himself at a loss for words.
It was inconceivable that two of the most influential individuals in their realm had fallen. He had known Flintmace for years and had witnessed his unwavering dedication to the Kernel Tower and unparalleled prowess in the face of danger.
While Mazton hadn't known Vulcan for long, he often heard from Flintmace about his strength and how Flintmace would lose to Vulcan in a fight. Their loss was immeasurable, and the void they left behind was vast.
"Flintmace and Vulcan…" he murmured as if the words themselves were difficult to accept. "I can't believe it. How did it happen?"
"We encountered a Precursor, sir. There was no other choice but to engage him so we can get Ashton to safety." Laihud stepped up and offered to explain.
Vimur continued, "Unfortunately, the precursor's strength was beyond anything we've ever faced, and it's highly likely they didn't make it."
Mazton nodded slowly, his thoughts racing as he tried to make sense of the tragic turn of events. If anyone could have withstood the might of a Precursor, it would have been Flintmace and Vulcan, who had fought them before.
"If that's the case, it explains the extent of Ashton's injuries," Mazton shook his head, still having a tough time believing that Flintmace and Vulcan were gone.
That aside, the news was a bit shocking. First, a Precursor was alive; that alone was enough for the entire galaxy to panic. But the fact that even 3 S-grade beings couldn't stop the damned god was unprecedented.
Mazton took a moment to compose himself, turning his attention to the task at hand—the critical condition of Ashton. The young man lay on a stretcher, his injuries severe and his condition deteriorating with every passing moment.
Medical staff were around him, tending to him while slowly moving towards the medical ward reserved for the Tower Master.
"We must focus on saving Ashton," Mazton declared, his voice unwavering. "He is the future of the Kernel Tower."
Anna, her grief still fresh, nodded in agreement. "Yes, please, you have to save him."
Mazton offered a reassuring smile to Anna, though his heart ached for the losses she had suffered.
"We will do everything in our power," he assured her. "Ashton was appointed as the next Tower Master by Flintmace himself. We cannot let his sacrifice be in vain."
"We've initiated treatment," one of the doctors informed Mazton, her voice calm and professional. "But his condition is critical. The transformation into a Precursor has altered his physiology significantly."
Mazton nodded, acknowledging the gravity of the situation. He had seen the remarkable transformations that had occurred within the Kernel Tower's walls, but Ashton's case was unique, a confluence of extraordinary circumstances that had reshaped his very being.
The doctor continued, "Thankfully, Lord Flintmace had shared knowledge about Precursor anatomy with some of us. Therefore, we can operate on Ashton. Let's get going, people! Chop! Chop!"
With that, the medical staff redoubled their efforts, working tirelessly to improve Ashton's fragile condition. Intravenous fluids were administered, and monitors tracked his vital signs. They worked with an urgency that acknowledged the preciousness of every passing second.
"We've already lost one Tower Master," Mazton said, his voice loud and clear. "We can't allow another one to die in vain. Ensure you do everything possible to get him back on his feet!"
"Yes, sir!"
The medical staff exchanged glances. They knew the significance of their task, the urgency of saving the life of the Tower Master-to-be.
With Mazton's encouragement and the resources of the Kernel Tower at their disposal, they assured everyone that they would leave no stone unturned in their efforts to ensure Ashton's survival.
As everyone headed to the medical bay, Mazton glanced back at the spaceship, where his senior had journeyed for the final time.
In their memory, Mazton vowed to honour their legacy as their saviour and ensure that no one else had to make a sacrifice like they did until he was alive.
"He will survive," Mazton mumbled. "And together, we will avenge you. That's my promise to you, Flintmace."