"There is nothing made on this world which can harm me", the creature boasted confidently as it advanced, pressing Klane back into a shadowy corner angle of the base, although something in his stance made it uneasy for the first time and a flicker of doubt crossed its mind. "You don't know what this is do you?", Klane replied and he raised his weapon. Some instinct guided him as he adjusted the settings, selecting a cold modality where ribbons of icy anti-energy flowed out from the blade in a coruscating curtain of force and a bright blue light glittered with defiant intent from the tip of the shiny metal. "It was not made on this world. It is my klane and I am the Klane of Kalonia. You have trifled with Lucalle and with Ketha for too long, treating them as your slaves and abusing your power. That time is over. Now I have come to bring justice for them and for the people of this world and to end your tyranny forever!" "Yes... s.... ? You think s...s... o? Let's... s... s... eee!" Goaded into an instant attack the creature still didn't really believe this youth could hurt it. Neither the namesake who currently wielded it nor the scion of the powerful and venerable species it now faced in combat knew anything of the distant age when their kinds had fought wars across the stars. Only the klane itself carried the legacy of that ancient animosity for this very klane had been present at the once fabled battle of ten thousand moons which raged across the entirety of the Thuban A and B systems for more than fifteen years. In those troubled times the great knight wanderer Jalesh had rallied the forces of the Golden Allies to drive the Dark Legions out of their stronghold and deliver a famous victory. The klane was mute; a silent inanimate witness to places far away and times long gone. The battle of ten thousand moons had been largely forgotten on the Earth even before the Great Forgetting put an end to so much more history. It was little noted in the vast record stores of the Galactic Compact. The name of Jalesh had not been spoken for uncounted millennia. The knight wanderers were no more and their legacy just dust and ashes. Yet still, in some strange way the klane sensed again its ancient foe and the icy form of attack best suited to defeat it. And perhaps something of its own knowledge helped Klane select exactly the right mode of attack...