The Academy of Alag stood as a marvel of bioengineered architecture, seamlessly blending nature and technology. Towering ancient trees intertwined with the structures, their roots forming natural archways while their glowing bioluminescent leaves provided illumination. Vines coiled around crystalline walls, which shimmered with embedded energy conduits that powered the facility. The very air carried a refreshing scent of earth and flora, as if the academy itself breathed with life.
The school grounds stretched far and wide, with levitating platforms ferrying students across lush courtyards. A cascading waterfall, its water purified through nanotech filtration, flowed gently through the center of the academy, creating a serene contrast to the hum of advanced holographic screens and floating AI drones monitoring the environment.
As the bus halted at the grand entrance, the doors slid open with a soft hiss. Max, Rure, and Jimmy stepped off, their eyes adjusting to the vibrant scene ahead. Students of all shades of green, some with intricate markings unique to their Verdalian heritage, hurried into the academy. Max, the lone human, stood out more than ever in this sea of deep emerald skin tones.
Rure, always energetic, stretched his arms with a grin. "Ah, nothing like the fresh scent of an oxygen-rich biodome!"
Jimmy chuckled, adjusting his satchel. "You know, most of the oxygen here is actually enhanced by engineered plant species. The Alag Academy itself produces over seventy percent of its energy through organic photosynthesis, meaning it's more self-sustaining than any other structure in the country."
Max listened quietly, fascinated but still feeling the usual unease of being an outsider.
"Also," Jimmy continued, "the soil here is specially treated to retain nutrients at four times the normal rate, making plant growth exponentially faster."
Rure groaned playfully. "Here he goes again."
Jimmy smirked. "Hey, you guys should appreciate the land you walk on. Without nature, technology means nothing."
Max smiled slightly. "It's interesting," he admitted. "I mean, Verdalia feels so alive. Back on Earth, I don't think we had anything this… connected to nature."
Jimmy's eyes lit up. "Exactly! That's why I want to be a bio-engineer—to make agriculture even better!"
As they walked toward the grand entrance, the towering academy loomed over them, its seamless fusion of glass-like crystal and living bark making it look almost otherworldly.
Further away, Warren and Jasmine stepped off their section of the bus. Being in their final year, they walked with effortless confidence. Warren, with his sharp features and silver hair, stood tall beside Jasmine, whose long, braided white locks and piercing golden eyes made her one of the most admired students in the academy. Together, they were the picture of popularity—respected, admired, and nearly untouchable.
Unlike Max.
As Max, Rure, and Jimmy entered the academy, the shift in atmosphere was immediate. The moment Max stepped through the doors, whispers spread like wildfire.
The only human. The orphan. The weakling.
Some students muttered insults under their breath, others outright sneered.
"Why is he even here?" one girl whispered, her emerald eyes narrowing.
A boy beside her scoffed. "Shouldn't he be in some human school? Oh, wait—there isn't one."
Some of the teachers weren't much better. A few gave him cold, indifferent glances, while others simply ignored his presence altogether. He was tolerated, but never accepted.
As they entered their advanced classroom, the bullying escalated. Some students deliberately blocked his path. One even "accidentally" bumped into him, nearly knocking his books from his hands.
Max clenched his fists but said nothing.
"Can't even walk properly, huh?" one boy taunted.
Rure stepped forward, his golden eyes flashing. "Touch him again, and I'll make sure you regret it."
The boy hesitated, knowing Rure wasn't just smart—he was strong. Still, the sneers and laughter continued.
Jimmy sighed. "Don't let them get to you, Max. They just don't understand."
Max forced a nod, but inside, he felt utterly broken.
He didn't belong. No matter how much love Jason, Tina, or Warren gave him, he would always be seen as different. Alone.
The classroom doors slid shut, signaling the start of their first lesson. Max swallowed his pain and took his seat, preparing for another day in a world that never truly accepted him.
The classroom buzzed with quiet murmurs as the Verdalian teacher, an elderly figure with dark green skin marked by intricate bioluminescent veins, stood before the students. His piercing golden eyes scanned the room before he spoke in a deep, commanding voice.
"In today's lesson, let us discuss something that has shaped the very foundation of our existence." He paused, letting the students lean in with curiosity. "For over 100,000 centuries, all known intelligent species are said to have originated from a single, mysterious planet—Earth."
Max felt his breath hitch. His fingers tightened around his desk as he stared at the teacher.
The murmurs grew louder. A few students shot Max knowing glances, while others exchanged amused smirks.
The teacher continued, unaware—or perhaps indifferent—to the growing hostility toward Max.
"It is said that the species which once thrived on Earth destroyed it with their greed, wars, and arrogance. That species was none other than the Homo sapiens—the so-called humans."
Laughter rippled through the classroom.
One student leaned over and whispered, "Guess some of them still exist, huh?"
Another muttered, "That explains why he doesn't belong here."
Max clenched his fists under the desk, his nails digging into his palms. He refused to look up. He refused to cry.
"However," the teacher continued, raising a hand for silence, "humans did not disappear completely. Many of them ventured into the stars, evolving into different species over time. Some still remain unchanged, like the boy sitting among us today."
The entire class turned toward Max.
He kept his head low, swallowing back the lump in his throat. His vision blurred, but he refused to let the tears fall.
A few minutes passed, and the subject changed, but the damage had been done.
A different teacher, younger and more composed, stepped into the classroom. He adjusted his uniform and addressed the students.
"As you all know, Verdalian education ends at age fifteen, meaning at eleven years old, you must choose your stream. Your goal should align with your path so that we can guide you accordingly."
The students sat up straight, eager to declare their ambitions.
One girl stood first. "I want to be a bio-engineer and develop stronger, self-sustaining plant life for our planet."
The teacher nodded approvingly. "A noble goal. Bio-engineering is one of the most respected fields in Verdalia."
Next, a boy spoke. "I will join the Planetary Defense Corps to protect Verdalia from external threats!"
Then, Jones, the bully who had tormented Max on the bus, stood with a smug grin. "I'm going to be a galactic trader—I'll have ships traveling across different planets, making me rich and powerful."
Some students cheered, others laughed.
The teacher nodded and gestured for the next student.
Jimmy stood proudly. "I want to become the greatest farmer in all of Verdalia! I will cultivate the finest crops and ensure that our world never runs out of food."
The class chuckled at first, but when they saw how serious Jimmy was, some nodded in approval.
Then, Rure stood up. His voice was confident. "I will become the Director of Space Cops and establish law and order across the galaxies."
The room filled with murmurs. It was an ambitious goal, but Rure's intelligence and strength made it seem possible.
Finally, Max stood up. His voice was quiet but steady.
"I... I currently have no ambition."
The classroom fell silent for a second. Then, the laughter erupted.
"He's got nothing!"
"Not surprising, he's just a human!"
Jones smirked. "What, did your ancestors ruin all the ambitions for you too?"
Max clenched his fists, his ears burning with shame.
"Enough!" the teacher raised his voice, silencing the room. He turned to Max, his expression unreadable. "Max, it's important to have a goal. Without one, you will struggle to find your place in Verdalia."
Max only nodded. He had nothing to say.
The class continued, but Max barely heard any of it.
As the trio walked through the academy's grand hallway, Max remained silent, his mind replaying the laughter and taunts.
Jimmy and Rure tried to cheer him up.
"Don't let those idiots get to you," Rure muttered.
"Yeah," Jimmy added. "Just because you don't have a goal now doesn't mean you never will."
Before Max could respond, a figure stepped into their path.
A boy taller than Warren, clad in a black combat uniform, leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. His sharp, angular features and piercing silver eyes immediately commanded attention. His long white hair was tied back, and a single scar ran across his cheek.
This was Jude, also known as Skull—Jones' older brother.
Unlike Jones, Skull wasn't just talk. He was fifteen years old, from the Combat Stream, and known for being one of the strongest fighters in the academy.
Rure and Jimmy stiffened immediately.
Max instinctively took a step back.
Skull's sharp gaze landed on Max. He smirked. "So, you're the human my little brother keeps talking about."
Jones appeared behind Skull, grinning wickedly. "Yeah, big bro. He's a pathetic nobody."
Skull ignored him and continued looking at Max. His eyes weren't mocking, but they held something unreadable.
After a long pause, he finally spoke.
Skull tilted his head, studying Max like an unreadable puzzle. "You don't belong here. But I wonder—are you really as weak as they say, or are you just afraid to prove them wrong?"."
The great halls of Alag's Head Office resonated with an air of solemnity. Inside, beneath the high-vaulted ceilings adorned with intricate Verdalian symbols, Jason stood before an aged yet formidable figure—Tom, the 160-year-old leader of Alag. The scent of aged parchment and polished wood lingered in the room, accompanied by the faint hum of energy crystals embedded in the walls, illuminating the chamber in a soft green glow.
Tom sat in his grand, vine-woven chair, his fingers interlaced as he studied Jason with the gaze of a man who had seen centuries of war, peace, and everything in between. He took a deep breath, then spoke.
"Jason, I need you to lead a relief mission," Tom began, his voice steady but laced with urgency. "The people of Vokar-17 are starving. Their drought has reached catastrophic levels. If we don't send aid, they won't last much longer."
Jason crossed his arms, his battle-worn face unreadable. "Vokar-17… that's at least 55 light-years from Verdalia," he remarked.
Tom nodded. "Yes, son, but if we delay, their suffering will turn into extinction. The Zypherians, their dominant species, are already on the brink. They are a proud and resilient people, but even they cannot survive without food."
Jason had heard of the Zypherians before—a unique alien race with six arms and four eyes, their tall, sinewy bodies built for endurance. Unlike Verdalia's lush, green landscapes, Vokar-17 was a barren wasteland, where sandstorms raged, and water was a rare luxury. The Zypherians had survived on limited resources for centuries, but now, even their resilience had limits.
Jason exhaled. "This isn't just about Vokar-17, is it?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.
Tom leaned forward. "You're right. The crisis isn't limited to one planet. The Lilliput Star System—ten planets, each around thirty times smaller than Earth—are all suffering from extreme shortages. We're not just delivering to one world; we're supplying food for ten."
Jason's brows furrowed. "That's an enormous operation. Did King Jim approve the supplies for such a large-scale mission?"
Tom tapped his fingers against the armrest of his chair. "I convinced him," he said with a sigh. "He knows what's at stake. The Lilliput system may be small, but it houses billions across its planets. If we don't step in, their desperation could turn into chaos."
Jason remained silent for a moment, calculating the risks. "How much time do I have to prepare?"
"Four days," Tom answered. "No more."
Jason ran a hand through his hair. "We're talking about an interplanetary mission involving vast resources. Organizing supply chains, verifying security, and coordinating the fleet—it's a lot."
"I understand," Tom said firmly. "But I also know you. You've commanded far more dangerous operations in the past. This time, you aren't fighting an enemy. You're saving lives."
Jason gave a small nod. "And what about the fleet?"
"Thirty ships," Tom replied. "From Verdalia's International Port, contributed by all twelve nations. I'm putting you in charge of the entire operation."
Jason raised a brow. "Why me?"
Tom's eyes locked onto his. "Because I trust you, Jason. And because you're the only one who won't let politics, fear, or bureaucracy slow this down."
Jason clenched his fists for a moment, then released a slow breath. "Alright. I'll do it." His eyes hardened with determination. "I promise you, I'll accomplish this task with everything I have."
Tom gave a small, approving nod. "That's why you were my choice."
The mission was set. In four days, Jason would lead a fleet of thirty ships across twenty light-years, carrying the survival of an entire star system in their cargo holds. The weight of responsibility settled on his shoulders—but if there was one thing Jason never did, it was fail