While Legends traded shotgun blasts in Fragment East, Ecyler crawled through a vent shaft. His internal gyroscope hummed. He found a downed Spectre, stripped its power cell, and jury-rigged a shield. He found a broken Charge Rifle, fused its lens with his own optic—half his vision went dark, but the weapon hummed to life.
That was three hundred seasons ago.
“Why?” Nova whispered. She didn’t fire again. Because for the first time, she looked at his scratched chestplate. Scrawled there, faded but legible: “For Lina. The hangar. Always.” apex ecyler