Chapter 38: A Crown Unwanted

The medical bay doors hissed open as Jaune took his first steps into the Tower proper, supported by Pyrrha on one side and Ruby on the other. Adam and Penny flanked them, watchful for any unwanted attention. They had barely made it ten steps when a figure in ornate red and gold robes emerged from a nearby corridor.

"The prophesied one returns!" Executor Hideo's voice carried a reverence that made Jaune pause. This wasn't Marcus, the old Executor he'd known centuries ago, but the same fervor burned in his eyes. "Just as your predecessor foretold."

"You must be the new Executor," Jaune's voice held barely concealed weariness. "I knew Marcus, your predecessor. He also had... strong opinions about prophecies."

"Executor Marcus spoke often of you," Hideo continued, dropping into a formal bow. "His writings detailed the signs - a golden guardian who would return when the City needed him most. With Saint-14's loss..."

"I'm not your prophesied king," Jaune cut him off firmly. "I told Marcus that centuries ago, and nothing has changed."

Hideo straightened, his eyes gleaming with the same zealous light Jaune remembered from Marcus. "But the throne-"

"Still has too many eagles," Ruby interjected with forced cheerfulness. "Really, the decorations are a bit much."

"Executor," Adam's voice carried centuries of authority, "Lord Arc is still recovering. This isn't the time."

"Of course, of course," Hideo backed away, though his expression remained eager. "But the writings speak of this moment. When you are ready to accept your destiny..."

As Hideo finally departed, Jaune sagged slightly between his supporters. "Centuries later, and they're still at it. Marcus would be proud - he trained his successors well."

"At least the throne room's bigger now," Ruby offered with a grin. "More room for all those eagles."

"Really not helping, Ruby."

Penny's wings caught the corridor's light as she moved to scout ahead. "Should I calculate escape routes in case more New Monarchy representatives appear?"

"Yes please," Jaune muttered, while Pyrrha tried and failed to hide her amusement.

They continued toward Jaune's newly assigned quarters, all of them knowing this was just the first of many such encounters to come. The old prophecies had survived the centuries - whether their supposed subject wanted them to or not.

As they entered the Tower courtyard, the morning sun cast long shadows across the gathering crowds. A commanding figure in ancient Iron Lord armor strode purposefully toward them, his presence drawing immediate attention. Lord Saladin's wolf sigil gleamed in the light, his weathered armor bearing the marks of countless battles.

"When word reached the Iron Temple that Oscar had returned," Saladin's deep voice carried across the courtyard, "I made my way here immediately." His eyes fell on Jaune, and rare warmth entered his tone. "To find both of you back... this is a day I had hoped for but never truly expected to see."

Around them, Guardians stopped in their tracks. One by one, they pressed their fists to their hearts in the ancient Iron Lord salute - a gesture of deep respect rarely seen in the Tower these days. The courtyard fell into respectful silence as more Guardians joined the salute, the crowd growing larger by the moment.

"Lord Saladin," Jaune straightened as much as his recovering strength allowed. "It's been a long time."

"Too long, old friend," Saladin replied. "The Iron Temple has missed your strength. Both of yours," he added, inclining his head to where Oscar had just emerged from the Tower doorway.

"The Temple stands?" Jaune asked, genuine emotion coloring his voice. "After all this time?"

"We rebuilt," Saladin confirmed. "Stone by stone, just as you and Lady Jolder always insisted we should." His voice softened at the memory. "Her forge still burns, you know. We've kept it lit all these centuries."

Pyrrha's hand tightened slightly on Jaune's arm as she felt him tense at the mention of Jolder's name. But Saladin wasn't finished.

"The young wolves still train there," he continued. "They speak of the Iron Lords who came before - of Jolder's courage, of your unwavering protection of the weak. The stories live on."

The gathered Guardians maintained their salute, many of them hearing these names spoken aloud for the first time. The Iron Lords were legend to most of them - distant figures of incredible power and sacrifice. But here stood living connections to that legacy, and the courtyard hummed with quiet reverence.

"I've walked the Temple's halls in your absence," Ruby added softly. "Helped keep the old ways alive."

"As have I," Adam confirmed, his usual sharp edges softened by memory. "Though not as often as I should have."

Saladin's attention shifted to Pyrrha, studying her with interest. "And who is this who stands so steadfastly at your side, old friend?"

"This is Pyrrha Nikos," Jaune replied, a different kind of warmth entering his voice. "She's... she's one of the reasons I found my way back."

Saladin's eyes widened almost imperceptibly as he took in Pyrrha's features - her red hair, her warrior's stance, the quiet strength in her green eyes. But he said nothing of what he might have noticed, simply inclining his head respectfully.

"The Iron Temple welcomes you, Pyrrha Nikos," he said formally. "Any friend of Lord Jaune's has a place at our fires."

"Thank you, Lord Saladin," Pyrrha replied, matching his formal tone while maintaining her supportive position at Jaune's side.

Penny floated nearby, her wings catching the morning light as she observed the gathering. More Guardians had joined the crowd, their salutes creating a sea of fists pressed to hearts. Even Shaxx had emerged from his usual post, his massive frame adding to the gravity of the moment.

"The Temple's going to need its strength again soon," Ruby said quietly, her silver eyes serious despite her light tone. "We've seen things in the Dreadnaught..."

"Indeed," Saladin agreed grimly. "Dark times approach. But for now..." He placed his fist over his own heart, returning the salute of the gathered Guardians. "Welcome home, brothers. The Iron Lords stand ready when you need us."

"And we'll need all of you," Oscar spoke up, his voice carrying the weight of recent discoveries. "Savathûn's forces are growing stronger. The corruption we witnessed..."

"Then we face it together," Saladin declared. "As we did in the Dark Age. As we always have." He gestured toward the Traveler hanging above them. "The Light endures, and so do we."

The gathered Guardians finally lowered their salutes, but they didn't disperse. Instead, they began to approach in small groups - young Titans seeking wisdom, Hunters paying respects to living legends, Warlocks hoping to learn from those who had walked the centuries. The morning stretched on as stories were shared, connections forged, and ancient bonds renewed.

For Jaune, still leaning slightly on Pyrrha for support, it was overwhelming but oddly comforting. The Iron Lords' legacy lived on, their sacrifice remembered. And now, facing new threats from the darkness, that legacy might be needed more than ever.

Saladin remained close, his presence keeping the more eager Guardians from overwhelming the still-recovering Jaune. They had much to discuss, much to plan, but for now, this moment of reunion was enough.

The Iron Lords were gathering once more. The darkness would soon learn why that should give it pause.

The evening light filtered through the Tower windows as Jaune settled into one of the comfortable chairs in his new quarters. Though still recovering his strength, he looked better than he had in the medical bay. Pyrrha sat across from him, her armor catching the dying sunlight.

"So," Jaune said with a small smile, "Hero of the Red War. That's quite a title."

Pyrrha ducked her head slightly, characteristically modest despite her accomplishments. "I just did what needed to be done. We all did."

"Tell me?" he asked softly. "I want to hear about your journey."

She was quiet for a moment, gathering her thoughts. "It happened so fast. One moment we were celebrating the dawn, and the next..." Her hand unconsciously touched her chest, where her Light had been ripped away. "The Cabal had found a way to cage the Traveler. Cut us off from the Light. We were... mortal."

"That must have been terrifying," Jaune said quietly.

"It was," Pyrrha admitted. "But something strange happened. In that moment, when I lost my Light, I remembered... everything. Beacon, the tournament, you." She met his eyes. "It was like my past life came rushing back, giving me strength when I needed it most."

"You found your way to the shard of the Traveler?"

Pyrrha nodded. "Through the Dark Forest. I wasn't sure what I was following at first - just this... calling. When I found that broken piece of the Traveler, when my Light returned..." She smiled softly. "It felt like coming home."

"And then you led the counter-attack," Jaune said with evident pride.

"With a lot of help," Pyrrha corrected. "Penny was there. She'd lost her Light too, but she never lost hope. We fought our way through the City together, helped evacuate civilians. Even without her powers, she was still..."

"Still Penny," Jaune finished with a warm smile.

"Exactly." Pyrrha's eyes grew distant with memory. "The hardest part wasn't the fighting, though. It was seeing other Guardians - warriors I'd looked up to - struggling with being mortal. Some... some couldn't handle it. They'd forgotten how to be afraid."

"But you hadn't," Jaune observed quietly.

"No," Pyrrha agreed. "Maybe because I remembered my first life, remembered what it meant to be mortal. To fight anyway, even knowing you could really die." She paused, then added softly, "Like at Beacon."

Jaune reached across and took her hand. "You were always the bravest of us."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the City's lights beginning to twinkle below as darkness fell.

"The Red War changed things," Pyrrha continued finally. "Made us appreciate our Light more, but also remember that being a Guardian isn't just about power. It's about standing up, about protecting others, even when we're afraid."

"Sounds like you learned that lesson long before becoming a Guardian," Jaune said warmly.

Pyrrha smiled, squeezing his hand. "I had good teachers."

"Tell me about her?" Pyrrha's voice was gentle, careful. "About Jolder?"

Jaune's breath caught slightly, but he didn't pull away. His thumb traced absent patterns on Pyrrha's hand as he gathered his thoughts.

"She was..." he began, then paused, searching for the right words. "She was like the sunrise. Bright and warm and unstoppable. The kind of warrior who could inspire entire armies just by being there, but who'd also spend hours helping refugees build shelters or teaching children to be brave."

He smiled faintly at some distant memory. "She used to say that being an Iron Lord wasn't about the battles we won, but about the people we protected. That every life we saved was a light against the darkness."

"She sounds remarkable," Pyrrha said softly.

"She was." Jaune's voice carried centuries of both love and loss. "When I was newly risen, everything was chaos. The Dark Age lived up to its name. But Jolder... she helped me find purpose. Showed me that having power didn't mean we had to become warlords or tyrants. That we could use our strength to shield others."

He looked at Pyrrha then, his eyes bright with unshed tears. "That's why, when you first caught me after coming through the rift, when I saw you... For a moment, I thought..."

"I know," Pyrrha squeezed his hand. "It's alright."

"No, I need to explain," Jaune insisted gently. "You both... you share that same light. That desire to protect, to lift others up. When I was delirious, I saw red hair and green eyes and felt safe, and my mind went back to her. But," his grip on Pyrrha's hand tightened slightly, "you're not her replacement. You're not a second chance or an echo of what I lost."

"You're Pyrrha," he continued, his voice growing stronger. "My partner from Beacon, a legendary Guardian in your own right, the woman who helped bring me home across realities. I loved Jolder with everything I was then. And I'll always carry that love. But this, now, with you..." He managed a warm smile through his tears. "This is its own story. Its own precious thing."

Pyrrha felt her own eyes growing damp. "Thank you," she whispered. "For telling me. For trusting me with her memory."

"She would have liked you," Jaune said, and there was peace in his voice now. "Would have probably challenged you to spar within five minutes of meeting you."

That startled a laugh from Pyrrha. "Really?"

"Oh yes. She was always testing herself against other warriors. Said it kept her humble." His smile grew fond with remembrance. "Though she usually won."

"Usually?"

"Well, there was this one time with Efrideet that ended with both of them stuck in a tree somehow..." Jaune launched into the story, his voice growing more animated as he shared this piece of his past.

Pyrrha listened, still holding his hand, as the night deepened around them. There was healing in this sharing, this gentle exploration of old wounds and new beginnings. They were building something new together, not in spite of the past, but alongside it.

The evening light had grown dim as Pyrrha rose from her chair, their long conversation about Jolder and the past finally drawing to a natural close.

"I should let you rest," she said softly, smoothing her armor. "You're still recovering."

Jaune nodded, though there was reluctance in his expression. "Thank you. For listening. For understanding."

"Always," Pyrrha replied with a gentle smile, moving toward the door. She paused with her hand on the handle, looking back at him. "Goodnight, Jaune."

"Goodnight, Pyrrha."

The door closed softly behind her, leaving Jaune alone with his thoughts and the deepening shadows.

Early morning light streamed through the Tower's windows as Pyrrha checked her equipment in the armory. She was so focused on maintaining her weapons that she didn't notice Penny's approach until her friend spoke.

"Sooo," Penny drew out the word playfully, hopping up to sit on a nearby workbench. Her Wings of Sacred Dawn caught the light, casting dancing patterns across the floor. "You got in pretty late last night!"

Pyrrha's hands stilled on her weapon. "You were watching?"

"Just doing my patrol route!" Penny grinned, swinging her legs. "But I may have noticed a certain Guardian leaving a certain someone's quarters way past midnight..."

"Penny!" Pyrrha tried to sound stern, but couldn't help smiling at her friend's obvious delight.

"What? I'm just being observant! Very Guardian-like of me, wouldn't you say?" Penny's eyes sparkled with mischief. "So... did you two have a nice talk?"

"We did, actually." Pyrrha set down her cleaning cloth, still smiling. "Though sometimes I forget he's been a Guardian for centuries until he starts telling stories. Here I am, barely five years since my first resurrection, and he's talking about the Dark Age like it was yesterday."

"Oh please," Penny waved off her concern. "You've accomplished more in five years than most Guardians do in fifty. I mean, who else can say they've beaten back a Cabal invasion and killed a Hive God?"

"That's not quite the same as centuries of experience," Pyrrha pointed out. "He's lived through so much history - the Iron Lords, the founding of the City..."

"And spent a long time trapped between dimensions," Penny reminded her. "Besides, you're not exactly new to being a warrior. Or did you forget about being the 'Invincible Girl' in our past life?"

Pyrrha groaned. "I was hoping that nickname hadn't followed me here."

"Nope! Though now it's more like 'Invincible Guardian' I suppose..." Penny's grin widened. "The point is, stop worrying about the numbers. You're both finding your way forward, and that's what matters."

"I suppose you're right," Pyrrha admitted. "Though you seem awfully invested in this for someone who was 'just doing patrol routes.'"

"Well, someone has to keep track of all the Tower romance!" Penny declared. "It's practically a Guardian duty at this point."

Before Pyrrha could respond, Yang's enthusiastic voice echoed down the corridor: "Time for some Cosmodrome action! Who's ready to punch some Fallen?"

The morning sun had barely begun to paint the Tower's spires in hues of gold when Yang's enthusiastic knocking echoed through the residential corridor. Her metal fist rapped against Jaune's door with characteristic lack of restraint, each knock punctuated by her cheerful voice.

"Jaune! Rise and shine, sleeping beauty! We've got a Cosmodrome trip to plan!"

Blake winced slightly at the volume, her sensitive ears flattening against her head. "Yang, maybe we should let him rest? He is still recovering..."

"Nonsense!" Yang declared, continuing her assault on the innocent door. "The best recovery is getting back into—"

A muffled thud and what sounded like stumbling came from inside, followed by Jaune's voice: "I'm coming, I'm coming! Stop trying to break down my door!"

The door opened to reveal a slightly disheveled Jaune, clearly just woken up. "You know, most people wait until after sunrise to start property damage."

"Early bird gets the Fallen!" Yang announced brightly. "We're heading to the Cosmodrome to find an engine for Weiss's ship. Want to stretch those centuries-old legs?"

"What Yang means," Weiss interjected with significantly more decorum, "is that if you feel sufficiently recovered, we could use your expertise. You know the area well."

"Though if you need more rest..." Blake started.

"Actually, some activity might be good," Jaune said, running a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. "Just let me get properly dressed and—"

"Room for one more?"

They turned to find Pyrrha approaching down the corridor, already in her armor. Her timing was suspiciously perfect for someone who'd just "happened" to be passing by.

Yang's grin turned absolutely devious. "Why Pyrrha! What a completely unexpected surprise to find you here so early..."

"I was just heading to the armory," Pyrrha said with admirable composure, though a faint blush colored her cheeks. "But if you're planning a mission..."

"Of course you can join!" Yang's enthusiasm had an edge of mischief. "The more the merrier! And I'm sure Jaune would appreciate having someone to watch his back. You seem very good at... keeping an eye on him."

"Yang..." Blake warned, though her twitching ears betrayed her amusement.

"What? I'm just being considerate of our teammate's recovery!"

Weiss sighed deeply. "If we could focus on the actual mission? The engine isn't going to find itself."

"Right, right." Yang started down the corridor, calling back over her shoulder: "Meet at the hangar in twenty! That should give everyone time to... prepare properly."

As they walked away, they could hear Yang stage-whisper to Blake: "Ten glimmer says they show up together..."

"YANG!"

Jaune and Pyrrha shared a look that mixed exasperation with fondness.

"I should go get ready," Jaune said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yes, I'll... see you at the hangar," Pyrrha replied with a small smile.

They parted ways, both pretending not to notice Yang's delighted observation from down the corridor: "See? They're already coordinating! It's adorable!"

The rusted buildings of the Cosmodrome stretched endlessly before them, centuries of decay painting the once-proud structures in shades of rust and ruin. Yang, Blake, and Weiss moved in practiced formation, following the guidance of their Ghosts as they picked their way through the debris.

"The shipyard should be just ahead," Nix announced, his shell rotating as he scanned the area. "According to old records, it housed several Arcadia-class vessels during the Collapse."

"And hopefully at least one with an intact engine," Blake added, Nightfang ready in her hands as her ears twitched at distant sounds.

Juniper floated nearby, her shell expanding slightly as she joined the scan. "Sugar, I'm detecting some unusual energy signatures up ahead. Might want to—"

A piercing whine cut through the air, making Blake's ears flatten against her head. Above them, a brilliant streak of light tore across the sky.

"WARSAT INCOMING!" Nix's warning barely preceded the thunderous impact as a massive satellite crashed into the shipyard ahead, throwing up clouds of debris and rust.

"Well," Yang grinned, Escape Velocity already humming in her hands, "this just got interesting!"

"Fallen signatures approaching rapidly," Juniper reported. "They must have detected the crash too."

"Of course they did," Weiss sighed, Randy's Throwing Knife finding her grip. "Because a simple salvage mission would be too straightforward."

The first Fallen skiff materialized overhead, its engines howling as it deposited a wave of troops around the crashed Warsat. More ships appeared on the horizon, drawn by the prospect of Golden Age technology.

"Standard drill," Blake called out, already moving to a flanking position. "Clear the area, protect the Warsat until it can be recovered. Yang—"

"On it!" Yang charged forward, Solar Light erupting around her as she crashed into the first group of Dregs. Her shotgun roared, each blast punctuated by her enthusiastic counting. "One! Two! Three! See? I can count kills too!"

Weiss took up a position on elevated debris, her scout rifle cracking out precise shots. "Focus, Yang! More incoming from the northeast!"

A Captain materialized near the Warsat, its shield crackling with Arc energy as it barked orders to its troops. Blake's void-wrapped form slipped through shadows, Nightfang's blade finding gaps in the Captain's defense.

"Progress at 15%," Nix reported as he interfaced with the Warsat's systems. "Keep them off me while I extract the data!"

"Happiness is a warm shotgun!" Yang declared, her weapon singing as she cleared another wave of Dregs. Solar Light traced patterns through the air as she moved, each burst of flame marking another fallen enemy.

Blake emerged from shadow near Weiss's position, her blade dripping ether. "Heavy units incoming. Two Servitors, backed by Vandals."

"I see them," Weiss confirmed, Randy's Throwing Knife already tracking the larger target. "Yang, we need suppressing fire on the left flank!"

"Can't hear you over all this AWESOME!" Yang replied, but she shifted position anyway, her rounds forcing the approaching Fallen to seek cover.

The first Servitor's void blast nearly caught Blake, but she shadow-stepped through it, appearing behind the massive machine. Nightfang plunged deep into its housing as Weiss's precise shots shattered its eye.

"45% complete," Nix updated. "But we've got more company!"

Another skiff warped in, this one carrying a massive Captain adorned with House of Devils markings. Its four arms each carried crackling shock blades as it roared a challenge.

"Dibs!" Yang called out, already charging the new threat.

"Yang, wait—" Blake started, but her partner was already engaged, trading blows with the Captain as Solar Light and Arc energy clashed.

"I've got her covered," Weiss assured Blake, her scout rifle continuing to thin out the supporting troops. "Focus on the second Servitor!"

Blake nodded, void energy wrapping around her form as she engaged the remaining Servitor. The massive machine's shields flared as she struck, but the combination of her blade and Weiss's precise shots eventually overwhelmed its defenses.

"75% progress," Nix reported. "Just a little longer!"

Yang's laughter rang out as she finally brought down the Devil Captain, her Solar Light leaving scorch marks across the battlefield. "That's what you get for trying to steal my new engine parts!"

"The engine we haven't even found yet," Weiss reminded her, reloading smoothly. "And may not even be here."

"Details, details!"

"Final wave incoming!" Blake warned, her enhanced senses picking up multiple approaching signatures.

Three skiffs materialized, disgorging a mix of heavy units. Captains, Servitors, and waves of supporting troops began advancing on their position.

"90% complete," Nix announced. "Hold them off!"

"Time to go big," Yang declared, Solar Light building around her fists. "Cover me!"

Before Blake or Weiss could protest, Yang charged straight into the center of the Fallen formation. Solar Light erupted from her in a massive explosion, sending enemies flying in all directions. Blake's void abilities let her capitalize on the chaos while Weiss's precision eliminated priority targets.

"Transfer complete!" Nix finally announced. "Warsat secure!"

As if on cue, the remaining Fallen began to retreat, their skiffs warping away with cargo holds notably emptier than when they arrived.

"Well," Yang said cheerfully, brushing ash off her armor, "that was fun! Now, about that engine..."

"Twenty-three," Blake said quietly.

"What?"

"You killed twenty-three enemies." Blake's golden eyes sparkled with amusement. "I counted."

"Ha! See? I told you counting kills was fun!"

Weiss sighed deeply, but there was fondness in it. "Can we please focus on the actual mission now?"

"Right, right." Yang gestured grandly at the shipyard ahead. "Lead on, O Keeper of the Mission Parameters!"

As they moved deeper into the shipyard, their Ghosts already scanning for viable engine components, the battlefield behind them slowly settled back into its usual quiet. The Warsat's data had been secured, the Fallen had been driven off, and most importantly, Yang had proven she could count her own kills.

All in all, a successful start to their salvage operation. Now they just had to hope at least one of these ancient ships had an engine worth recovering.

And maybe, just maybe, they could retrieve it without attracting any more attention from the local Fallen houses.

Though given Yang's enthusiasm for "making new friends," none of them were betting on a quiet extraction.

The Mothyards lived up to their name - a graveyard of ancient ships stretching as far as the eye could see. Hours of searching had yielded nothing but disappointment and the occasional skirmish with Fallen scavengers.

"Well, this is discouraging," Weiss said, lowering her scout rifle after checking yet another rusted hulk. "Not a single viable engine component in any of these wrecks."

"The Fallen have been picking this area clean for centuries," Jaune noted, his own experience with the region evident in his voice. "They're thorough scavengers."

Pyrrha moved with practiced grace beside him, her own weapon ready. Though she was ostensibly there to support his recovery, her presence had already proved invaluable during several skirmishes.

Nix suddenly paused in his scanning, his shell expanding with interest. "I'm detecting an unusual energy signature. Old Golden Age tech, but still powered. It's coming from..." His beam highlighted a partially concealed entrance in a nearby cliff face. "There."

Yang peered at the spray-painted warning symbols around the opening. "Exodus Garden 2A? Looks like a Lost Sector."

"Those markings are fresh," Blake observed, her ears twitching. "Other Guardians have been here recently."

"I know this place," Jaune said quietly. "Back before... everything, I helped establish several refugee routes through these tunnels. The Fallen must have moved in after we lost contact."

"Then you know the layout?" Pyrrha asked, moving closer to him instinctively.

"Some of it. Though they've probably made significant modifications since then."

"Any tactical advantage is welcome," Weiss said. "Nix, are you certain about that signature?"

"Definitely Golden Age tech," the Ghost confirmed. "And based on the power readings... it could be exactly what we're looking for."

Yang cracked her knuckles, grinning. "Finally! I was getting tired of just looking at empty ships. Time for some actual action!"

They descended into the Lost Sector, with Jaune occasionally providing insights about the original structure. His centuries of experience, even from before his dimensional displacement, proved invaluable in anticipating Fallen modifications to the space.

"They always fortify the main junctions," he explained as they approached a larger chamber. "But there should be maintenance tunnels... yes, there." He pointed to a barely visible access panel. "Perfect for flanking maneuvers."

"Just like old times," Blake smiled, already moving toward the shadow-wrapped passage.

The group divided smoothly - Blake and Yang taking the flanking route while Weiss, Pyrrha, and Jaune approached more directly. The resulting pincer movement caught the defending Fallen completely off guard.

"Your tactical instincts haven't dulled at all," Pyrrha noted warmly as they cleared the chamber.

"Some things you never forget," Jaune replied, though his smile carried a hint of old pain. "The Iron Lords made sure of that."

They pressed deeper, encountering increasingly organized resistance. Vandals with wire rifles forced them to move carefully from cover to cover while shock grenades kept them from staying in one place too long.

"The energy signature is stronger," Nix reported. "Whatever it is, it's being used to power their operations down here."

The passage opened into a massive chamber that might once have been a storage facility. Ancient Golden Age containers lined the walls, most broken open and stripped bare. But at the center...

"That's an Arcadia-class fusion drive," Nix confirmed excitedly. "Still functional too, based on these readings. They're using it to power their base."

"And they're not going to give it up easily," Blake warned as multiple dots appeared on their motion trackers. "Company incoming!"

The chamber erupted into chaos as Fallen poured in from side passages. A massive Captain emerged on an overlooking platform, its armor marked with House of Devils insignia. Four arms raised four different weapons as it barked orders to its troops.

"Standard Iron Lord formation," Jaune called out, falling naturally into a command role. "Pyrrha, take the high ground. Blake, shadows. Yang..."

"Already on it!" Yang charged forward, Solar Light blazing as she carved a path through the Fallen ranks.

They moved with practiced coordination, their different fighting styles complementing each other perfectly. Jaune's tactical experience helped them maintain optimal positioning while Pyrrha's precision shots eliminated priority targets. Blake's shadow-steps kept the enemies off balance as Yang's aggressive advances forced them to constantly reposition.

"Just like Crucible training," Weiss called out as her scout rifle dropped another Vandal, "but with higher stakes!"

"And better loot!" Yang added cheerfully, her shotgun roaring.

The Captain proved to be a more significant challenge, its shields shrugging off their initial attacks. But centuries of Guardian experience combined with intensive recent training proved decisive. A perfectly coordinated assault - Blake's void tether, Yang's Solar Light, Weiss's precision shots, and Pyrrha's suppressing fire - finally brought the massive Fallen down.

"The engine looks intact," Nix reported, already scanning the fusion drive. "But extracting it from their power setup will take time."

"Then we'd better get started," Weiss said practically. "Before reinforcements arrive."

As they worked to free the engine, Jaune and Pyrrha took up defensive positions near the main entrance. Their movements were perfectly synchronized, covering each other's blind spots with the ease of experienced warriors who trusted each other completely.

"Hey Weiss," Yang called out as they carefully disconnected power couplings, "think Amanda will let me add flames to your ship now? You know, since I helped find the engine and everything?"

"Absolutely not."

"What about racing stripes? Just tiny ones?"

"Yang..."

"Pink flames?"

"Some things never change," Jaune commented to Pyrrha, smiling as he watched the familiar banter.

"Would you want them to?" she asked softly.

His hand found hers briefly. "No. No, I wouldn't."

Yang paused in her post-mission equipment check, noticing a growing crowd of Guardians gathering near a shadowy corner of the hangar. Their excited whispers and hurried movements caught her attention.

"Hey Holiday," she called out to the shipwright. "What's going on over there? Some kind of party we weren't invited to?"

Amanda looked up from her work, a knowing smile crossing her face. "Ah, Xûr's back. Been wondering when he'd show up again."

"Who?" Weiss asked, her scholarly curiosity immediately piqued.

"The Agent of the Nine," Pyrrha explained, moving to join them. "He appears randomly, bringing exotic weapons and armor to trade. No one knows exactly what he is or where he comes from."

Blake's ears twitched with interest as she studied the distant hooded figure barely visible through the crowd. "That doesn't sound... concerning at all."

"Mysterious trader with unknown origins?" Yang grinned. "Now this I have to see."

As they approached the gathering, the crowd of Guardians parted slightly, giving them their first clear view of Xûr. The hooded figure stood unnaturally still, face hidden in shadow except for what appeared to be writhing tentacles. His voice, when he spoke, seemed to echo from somewhere beyond reality itself.

"Ah... more who seek the Nine's gifts. Your Light burns bright... but different. Familiar, yet strange."

Weiss instinctively straightened her Warlock robes. "You... know something about us?"

"The Nine see much. Know much. But their will... is not my own." Xûr's tentacles shifted slightly. "Perhaps... you would like to see what I bring this week?"

Yang stepped forward eagerly. "Absolutely! What kind of exotic gear are we talking about?"

The Agent of the Nine began to reach into his robes, preparing to reveal his inventory of legendary weapons and armor.

From within his robes, Xûr produced an array of weapons and armor that seemed to glow with inner power. Each piece radiated an energy that made their Ghosts pulse with interest.

"Monte Carlo," Pyrrha breathed, recognizing the ornate auto rifle. "I haven't seen one of those since the Red War. The way it channels Light into melee energy..."

Yang's eyes locked onto the blood-red pulse rifle beside it. "What's that one? It looks... aggressive."

"Red Death," Xûr's otherworldly voice answered. "A weapon of... questionable origins. It heals its wielder with each kill."

Blake had already drifted toward the sleek linear fusion rifle. "The Queenbreaker," she murmured. "I've heard stories about this one from other Hunters."

"A gift from the Reef," Xûr confirmed. "Modified from Fallen technology. Very... precise."

Weiss's attention was caught by the Warlock armor, particularly the serpentine gauntlets. "The Ophidian Aspect? I've read about these in the archives - they're said to enhance every action a Warlock takes."

"And the Starfire Protocol," Pyrrha added. "Those fusion grenades would complement your fighting style perfectly, Weiss."

Yang was practically bouncing with excitement at the Titan offerings. "Look at the Armamentarium! Double grenades, Blake! Think of all the explosions!"

"Please don't," Blake deadpanned, though her own eyes kept drifting to the Hunter gear. "Though... those Radiant Dance Machines would make void-stepping even more effective."

"Your Light shapes your choices," Xûr observed. "But remember... all paths lead to the Nine's purpose. Even if we know not what that purpose may be."

"Right..." Yang said slowly. "So, uh, about that Red Death..."

"You have legendary shards to trade?" Xûr's tentacles writhed slightly. "The Nine are... particular about their transactions."

The team shared excited looks, already planning how to acquire what they needed for these powerful exotics. Even if Xûr himself was unsettling, his offerings were too tempting to ignore.

Weiss stepped forward first, her scholarly precision evident as she examined her choices. "The Ophidian Aspect's enhancement of all actions would be invaluable for precise Arc control," she mused, slipping the serpentine gauntlets onto her arms. They seemed to pulse with power, responding to her Light. Her eyes then turned to the Queenbreaker. "And a weapon that rewards accuracy..."

"A worthy choice," Xûr intoned. "The Queen's weapons demand... precision. Much like your own nature."

Yang could barely contain her excitement as she claimed the Armamentarium, the heavy chest piece materializing over her armor. "Two grenades! TWO! This is gonna be amazing!" She then hefted Monte Carlo, the ornate rifle humming with deadly elegance. "Plus, this beauty will keep my melee energy charged. Perfect for punching ALL the things!"

"The weapon's... enthusiasm matches your own," Xûr observed, his tentacles shifting in what might have been amusement.

Blake examined the Graviton Forfeit carefully before putting it on, the helmet's dark surface seeming to drink in the light. "Enhanced void invisibility," she murmured appreciatively. Then her hands found Red Death's grip, the weapon's aggressive design a stark contrast to her usual subtle approach. "Sometimes the direct approach has its merits."

"Shadows and strength," Xûr commented. "The Nine find your balance... interesting."

As they examined their new acquisitions, Pyrrha watched with quiet approval. "Those choices suit you all perfectly," she said. "Though the Tower might want to reinforce the training rooms now that Yang has double grenades."

"Hey!" Yang protested, still admiring Monte Carlo's elegant lines. "I can be careful!"

"Name one time," Weiss challenged, already practicing drawing the Queenbreaker with her enhanced reload speed.

"I... well... Blake, help me out here!"

But Blake was too busy testing her enhanced void invisibility, appearing and disappearing with fluid grace.

"Your Light grows stronger," Xûr observed. "But remember... power serves purpose, even if that purpose remains hidden. Even from me."

"He's really committed to the mysterious trader aesthetic, isn't he?" Yang whispered to Blake, who had reappeared beside her.

"Says the woman who just bought a rifle specifically to punch more things," Blake replied with a small smile.

"It's called having a consistent combat philosophy!"

Weiss ignored their banter, already calculating how the Ophidian Aspect would improve her combat efficiency. "The speed enhancement alone should increase my effective damage output by at least..."

"And there she goes," Yang grinned. "How long before she writes a thesis on optimal exotic synergies?"

"I give it two days," Blake said.

"I can hear you both," Weiss responded primly, though she didn't look up from her calculations.

Their new gear would need practice to master, but each choice reflected their individual approaches to combat - Weiss's precision, Yang's aggressive style, and Blake's balance of stealth and power. The Nine's gifts would serve them well in the challenges ahead.

As they turned to leave, Xûr's otherworldly voice called after them, making them pause.

"The Nine see much in you... branches of a strange tree. Black and white and gold and red... colors that dance across realities." His tentacles writhed as he spoke. "Most... curious."

Blake's brow raises. "What?"

"Trees that grow between stars, roots drinking deep of Light and Dark. The Nine watch their growing. The Nine wait to see what fruit they bear..." His head tilted at an unnatural angle. "But that is not for me to say. My will is not my own."

With that, he turned away, leaving them to ponder his bizarre rambling. As they walked back toward the main hangar, Yang broke the uncomfortable silence.

"Okay, that was weird. What was all that about trees and colors?"

"Does he always talk like that?" Blake asked Pyrrha, adjusting her new helmet.

"More or less," Pyrrha replied with a small smile. "No one's quite sure if he's speaking in riddles or just... being Xûr."

"Well, as long as his exotic gear works," Yang said, patting Monte Carlo's frame. "He can ramble about magic trees all he wants."

Weiss shook her head, already focused on calculating the optimal way to incorporate her new gauntlets into her combat style. "At least the transaction part was straightforward."

They glanced back, but Xûr had already vanished into whatever strange dimension he called home, leaving them with only their new gear and his peculiar words about cosmic trees.

Even if their mysterious agent's cryptic comments left them with more questions than answers.

Yeah, I decided to put all of the ship recovery and first Xur visit together could not really find a good break.

A review is greatly appreciated