On the Star Walker, the weight of the empire rested heavily on Julius's shoulders. Dozens of holographic screens projected a constant stream of data: reports from recently conquered worlds, resource requests, nascent uprisings, complex judicial decisions. Even with Data's incomparable help in processing information, certain choices could not be delegated. Should he punish a rebellious governor alone, or purge an entire population as an example? These decisions, heavy with blood and consequence, fell to him.
His body, now endowed with the strength of a Custodian, could endure days without sleep, but the mental effort was exhausting. He ran a hand over his face, a deep weariness in his eyes.
"Why do I have to do everything myself?" he murmured to himself. "I have the System."
Connecting to the familiar interface, he formulated his request. System, purchase: JARVIS. The artificial intelligence.
The air in front of him began to vibrate, and a humanoid form made of light and synthetic material materialized. It adopted the features of James D'Arcy, but with the serenity and power of Vision. Its eyes shone with a calm, profound intelligence.
"Good day, or good evening, since we are in space, Master Julius," said Vision's voice, both soft and resonant. "How are you today?"
A genuine smile, the first in a long time, appeared on Julius's face. "Well, thank you, Jarvis. I would first like you to connect to the ship's central computer to assess our current situation."
"But I have been connected since my arrival," replied Vision, a slight smile on his lips. "I see you indeed have a considerable workload. Allow me to lighten this burden immediately."
"Thank you, Jarvis. Connect with Data for more contextual information."
As the two artificial intelligences began their silent dialogue, merging their databases and processes, Julius's intercom chimed. It was the Grimnyr Borrak, requesting to see him in the Votann workshops.
Julius stood up, feeling a weight already lifting from his shoulders. He headed towards the lower levels of the ship, where the Votann had established their domain.
The atmosphere changed radically. The air was warm, thick with the smell of ozone, hot oil, and molten metal. The rhythmic noise of power hammers and the crackle of welders formed an industrial symphony. The Votann, true hard workers, labored with obsessive precision and efficiency. Nothing was out of place; everything was tidy, organized, perfect. It was their philosophy: order through work and perfection through practice.
He found the Grimnyr Borrak in the center of a workshop, deep in an animated discussion with several Kin artisans, their coveralls and aprons smudged with soot. On a heavy forge table, an object was covered with a thick leather cloth.
"Ha! You've arrived!" the Grimnyr exclaimed upon seeing him, his face lighting up beneath his beard. "Perfect timing. We just finished your gift."
Julius, surprised, raised an eyebrow. "My gift? What gift?"
The Grimnyr grabbed the cloth with a theatrical gesture and pulled it away with a sharp tug. "This gift!"
The light from the forges gleamed on the weapon resting on the table. It was a two-handed axe of breathtaking beauty and complexity. The haft, long and thick, was made of matte black beskar, offering a firm grip and absolute resistance. The blade, however, was a work of art. It was forged into a double curve that formed the outstretched wings of an eagle, the tip of each wing serving as a cutting edge. The metal of the blade was a deep midnight blue, and it shimmered with an inner light, as if it had captured a fragment of a nebula. Complex engravings, Votann runes mingled with the symbols of the Braveheart Legion, were inlaid into the metal.
"The blade is an alloy of our own making," the Grimnyr explained proudly, tapping the blue metal. "Adamantium for the cut and durability, and vibranium to absorb shock and energy. Marrying the two was a hell of a challenge, wasn't it, lads?!"
The Votann artisans around him approved with a chorus of satisfied grunts and nods.
Julius was in awe. He reached out and lifted the axe. The balance was perfect. The black beskar was cold and inert, while the blue blade seemed almost alive, faintly vibrating.
"It's... magnificent, Borrak," said Julius, genuinely moved. "I have no words."
"It needs a name," rumbled the Grimnyr, his eyes bright. "A name worthy of it."
Julius observed the blue wings of the eagle, evoking a nocturnal predator cleaving through the darkness.
"Nightwing," he declared. "She will be called Nightwing."
The Grimnyr grinned widely. "Nightwing. A good name. Carry it with honor, my friend. May it separate our enemies from their souls."
Julius felt the weight of the axe, not as a burden, but as a promise. It was more than a weapon. It was a symbol of the alliance that now bound his destiny to that of the Votann. A weapon forged in friendship and respect, as deadly as it was beautiful.