Between Two Souls, Prologue
Mother Earth is healing herself.
In the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, the world was consumed by two devastating wars among humankind. The wars were vastly different—one fought with weapons of unimaginable sophistication, the other with crude, ancient tools. Yet both painted the earth in blood. And still… humanity refused to learn.
When the wars ended, the world was left in ruin. Nuclear fallout scarred continents, rendering vast regions uninhabitable. Survivors fled in massive waves to the few remaining safe zones, but even there, the aftermath of war clawed at their doors.
As if defending itself, Mother Earth began birthing new terrors—mutating bacteria, viruses, radiation, and twisted creatures. Humans and animals alike were forced into horrifying evolutions.
To survive, many nations built colossal protective Domes—great half-spheres of metal and glass that shielded their cities from the horrors outside, whether visible monsters or invisible threats.
But humans, humans never learn.
Inside the Domes, governments and corporations shaped society. They displayed order and righteousness on the surface, yet corruption thrived beneath. Greed ruled. Profit justified cruelty. Those unable or unwilling to pay "taxes" were quietly removed.
The castaways formed their own groups outside the Domes—tribes, factions, roaming bands, and rogue corporations. But even then, humans never learned. Some settled, building communities and striving to survive with dignity. Others wandered as nomads—traders, scavengers… and plunderers. Some groups expanded their territories, spreading new ideologies like wildfire. Others built corporate-owned cities so grand they rivaled the Domes themselves.
Even after everything, science continued to advance—slowly, quietly. Especially in the field of space exploration. Earth's survivors clung to hope: that another habitable world existed, and someone out there would listen.
"..................…."
2291 — The Discovery
In the year 2291, a society of scientists and engineers working aboard an orbital space station made a breakthrough that changed everything. Led by six individuals—three djinns, two humans, and one distant-born outsider—they discovered a planet strikingly similar to Earth.
And more astonishingly… it was inhabited by humans.
Driven by curiosity and the hope of connection, they sought a way to communicate with the planet's people. Their efforts produced a device called S.O.U.L.S., a machine capable of linking a human's consciousness to another soul on the distant planet—chosen entirely at random. Through this bond, thoughts, emotions, and ideas could be shared across the stars.
To follow this connection physically, they began constructing a starship capable of interstellar travel, along with two intergalactic portals to serve as gateways. But their knowledge was limited, and one portal needed to be built directly on the foreign planet for the link to complete.
And thus, humanity prepared to reach out once more—across galaxies, across worlds, across fate.
But a Tragedy struck without warning.
A hostile faction descended upon the orbital station in a massive spacecraft, breaching its outer shell in a violent explosion. Sirens wailed. Security forces rushed to intercept, but they were overwhelmed within minutes. The intruders stormed through the corridors like a tide of steel and fire, capturing every researcher they could lay their hands on.
"Go! Take the intergalactic ship—take the portals and get them to the new planet!" shouted the Earth-born chief scientist, pushing his colleagues toward the escape wing. "I'll destroy S.O.U.L.S. and smuggle out the second portal. Hurry!"
"I hope we meet again," said another chief scientist—one not of Earth—before splitting off, sprinting toward the starship dock with several key members. The vessel was already fueled and stocked with surplus equipment; fortune favored them. Within moments, the starship launched, vanishing into the void.
Back in the core lab, chaos raged.
"Damn it! I should've prepared a way to destroy the S.O.U.L.S. core earlier!" the Earth-born chief cursed, rifling through drawers with shaking hands. "We don't have explosives—bring me gasoline! Burn the S.O.U.L.S.!
The rest of you—move the portal components to the escape pod!"
Station guards rushed to comply, drenching the machinery in gasoline while others hauled heavy portal modules toward the lifeboats.
Then—
BAAAM!
The door shattered inward. Bullets and laser fire carved through the room. Screams echoed off metal walls. Blood spattered the consoles.
"Watch your shots!" barked the invading commander. "We need the scientists and the equipment intact!"
Among the chaos, the chief scientist flicked his lighter—the one he normally used only to smoke. The tiny flame reflected in his eyes.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
He tossed it.
Fire roared to life instantly. The gasoline ignited in a violent explosion, engulfing the S.O.U.L.S. chamber and throwing invaders off their feet. In the blinding inferno, the remaining scientists and guards fled into the escape pod and launched away.
From afar, the fleeing starship and pods became streaks of light against the darkness.
Inside the ruined station, the invading commander stood silent, jaw clenched in fury.
"Gather whatever's left," he growled. "And hunt those bastards down."
".........…........."
Valkan — The Other Side of the Universe
Meanwhile, on the distant world humanity hoped to reach, life was already thriving.
The planet known to its inhabitants as Valkan—was home to a rich tapestry of civilizations far more diverse than Earth's remnants. Its continents sprawled across oceans, kingdoms and empires dotting the land. The largest region, the Utomo Continent, was divided into many realms—each with its own identity, culture, and history.
Humanity's great hope was not an empty world.
It was already alive.
A few regions were already well-known: Sharqiyy, the western desert lands; Hanzi, the vast steppes at the center; Gahat, the southern forestlands, bordered by the icy mountains of Servet; and Nuswantoro, a southeastern archipelago of rainforests and scattered islands.
Beyond the mountains bordering the Utomo Continent lay Aristera, infamous for its bitter cold and harsh four seasons. There stood a dominant kingdom, Arestiana.
Arestiana was a realm built on centuries of history. Its people cherished the legacy of its founder, King Ares, and his sister Adrestia. Nearly the entire land of Aristera lay under their rule, with the capital appropriately named Adrestia. The royal Adrestian bloodline had held the throne for nearly 800 years, dating back to the year 552 of the local calendar. To become king, one must either bear Adrestian blood or marry into the Adrestia line.
The clashing of steel echoed through the fortress barracks. Two figures trained beneath the morning light—one with golden hair, the other brown. The young blond, barely eighteen, faced an older knight known for his steadfast discipline. The young man was Prince Adrien Adrestia, the sole heir of the royal bloodline. His opponent and mentor was General Vernus, one of the kingdom's finest warriors.
"Argh! I failed again!" Adrien staggered back as his parry slipped. "Sorry, Vernus. My focus keeps slipping."
Vernus approached and offered a hand. "Even so, you're better today than yesterday."
At seventeen, Adrien had begun formal combat training under Vernus. Though born a prince, he was unlike any royal heir. Adrien disliked palace life; he preferred sneaking out to mingle with commoners, reading for hours in the royal library, or vanishing into solitude to paint. The constant expectations pressed onto him by the court suffocated him.
He had even applied to art academies several times, rejected either for lack of skill or because his parents forbade it. That left him feeling hollow, directionless. He often escaped to a cliffside beach in the north, waterfalls, wind, and a great old tree. He would sit beneath it and speak his worries aloud, as if the tree could answer. Yet in the end, he still surrendered to duty, following the path laid out for him… though never giving up on honing his art in secret.
"Vernus, I'm ready. One more time. My spirit's still burning." Adrien raised his sword.
"Haha, that's what I like about you." Vernus grinned. "Good. This time attack first, then try to deflect my counter perfectly."
They took their stances. Adrien charged in with renewed energy. Vernus parried without effort. Then Vernus launched his own quick strike…..
But before the blow could land…..
"Excuse me, Vernus. Have you seen my son hiding here?"
Adrien froze. The voice was unmistakable. He turned to see a blonde woman in an elegant yet simple green dress, her expression calm but piercing—the kind of look that made him forget how to breathe.
His mother had found him.
"Forgive me, Queen Sophie. I didn't know Her Majesty was looking for the prince," Vernus said respectfully. Of course he knew Adrien had run off again, and the Queen knew Vernus would help him hide. She understood her son too well; she knew every place he might escape to, and every person he might run to.
"Oh, so you are here." Queen Sophie approached, gently holding Adrien's shoulders. "Running away from me again, sweetheart?"
Behind her walked three men in black armor, their helmets sealed and marked with vivid blue plumes. The one in the center looked noticeably young.
"Oh—Vernus, don't forget to attend the ball tonight! Deimos, please give Vernus the invitation."
The young soldier in the center stepped forward and handed him the envelope. As soon as Vernus accepted it, he caught the young man by the shoulder.
"Hold on, young man. You look new. I don't tolerate unfamiliar faces in this fortress. Introduce yourself."
"My name is Deimos, Master. I serve as a cavalry officer under Lieutenant Phobos. I graduated from the military academy only a few months ago."
"Ahh… that's right. You were the youngest graduate." Vernus nodded, remembering. "My apologies, I couldn't attend your ceremony."
"No need to apologize, Master." Deimos bowed lightly. "Excuse me, I have another task to finish."
He stepped back and followed Queen Sophie out of the barracks.
Vernus exhaled, relieved he wasn't scolded for allowing the prince to slip away. But his thoughts quickly shifted to Deimos. "Hmph… only twenty years old, and already this sharp. Didn't expect him to rise so fast." He looked up toward the rafters.
"He's just like you, isn't he, Spectre?"
A woman crouched above him, clad in black, her light lamellar armor fitted tight, her head wrapped in a black turban.
"He's just as bad as the rest of your people," she scoffed. "He didn't even notice I was here."
Spectre, that was her nickname. A mercenary through and through.
"He probably did notice you," Vernus replied dryly. "I trained him the same way I trained you." He crossed his arms, pride slipping into his voice.
"Oho? Another secret disciple?" Spectre smirked. "Did you train him while wearing that silly mask again? What makes him so special?"
"You're as arrogant as ever," Vernus muttered. "He's better because he actually listens. Now give me the intel from the eastern border, the one I paid you for."
"Yes, Master."
Spectre tossed down a rolled-up scroll and vanished in a blink. Despite her attitude, she still respected Vernus enough to obey.
Vernus caught the scroll and unrolled it. As his eyes scanned the message, his expression shifted, shock, then dread.
"It's been so long since I received a report from the eastern border…" he whispered. His hand tightened on the parchment. "I'm sorry, old friend. Tomorrow… I'll retire as general. I don't have the strength for this anymore."
He tucked the scroll away and gazed up at the sky with a heavy sigh.
"May this kingdom survive without me."
Turning to leave, he muttered quietly to himself, "How bad could it be? Phobos will take command soon. He'll handle it… he has to."
30 years ago.
The Empire of Zelestria launched a massive expansion, fueled by a deep and bitter grudge against Arestiana. But the invasion ended in disaster when Prince Adrien's grandfather—Henry the Great—executed a brilliant, invisible counterattack that took Zelestria completely by surprise.
Arestian soldiers disguised themselves as refugees and traveling merchants, slipping into Zelestria's capital, Kushrow, without raising suspicion. Zelestria had always shown mercy to refugees, especially to those fleeing war. And that mercy was their undoing.
Long before these events, Zelestria had once been a small, humble kingdom—a dumping ground for the poor citizens of Arestiana. Those who failed to pay taxes were cast out, and many found refuge in Zelestria. Over time, the refugees united, and their combined strength transformed the kingdom into a rising empire.
But their rapid rise also led to arrogance.
Henry the Great exploited that.
In the end, he destroyed the imperial capital from the inside and forced Zelestria to negotiate peace at the Republic of Roum, a neutral state resting between their borders. The treaty demanded:
Zelestria must return half the territories taken during their invasion but able keep half.The Republic of Roum would claim a narrow path of land between them—stretching straight to the sea—where they would build an enormous fortress wall to serve as a permanent buffer zone.Trade routes would be reopened, with Roum supervising economic cooperation to restore stability.
And surprisingly—it worked.
Merchants from everywhere returned. Trade flourished. Discrimination vanished. For a time, both nations prospered.
"..................…"
Zelestria — 29 years after the war.
Inside the majestic throne room, soldiers stood rigidly along the red-carpeted aisle. At the far end, near the throne, religious leaders waited solemnly, one of them holding the imperial crown.
Footsteps echoed.
A figure entered the hall. Today was not the coronation of an emperor—but the inauguration of a new President of Zelestria not an emperor.
The man's eyes revealed everything: bitterness, calculation, resentment.
A patient predator.
He bowed his head just enough for ceremony—only enough to play his role.
….…To Be Continued...