10 minutes before the battle in the Upper Eastern Zone…
Solar storms raged beyond the reinforced glass of Moonridge Citadel, casting flickering crimson light across the war table. Inside, Captain Shin stood rigid, his armor humming with magnetic charges. Opposite him, the hologram of Rom stabilized—Zypherian tech always outmatched Verdalian systems.
Rom's silhouette sharpened, angular and calm, his eyes glinting with cold intelligence. Beneath his hooded cloak, faint Zypherian tattoos glowed faintly blue.
"He has begun turning on his own people," Rom said flatly. "The Liliput royal government bombed Novea Sector under the guise of 'anti-rebel operations.' Civilians. Entire districts. Wiped."
Shin's eyes narrowed. "The king who asked for help from other systems to end poverty… now wages war on the poor?"
"He was always weak," Rom sneered. "The court is fractured. Corrupt. And now irrelevant."
He waved his hand. A new star map blinked into view—the Lilliput Star System. One planet glowed red: Zelkaris.
"But someone rose from the ashes. Arco. No bloodline. No history. Just action. He's rallied the oppressed across planets. Built the Liberation Army. Unlike Lilliput's kings, Arco fights."
Shin studied the screen. "And where do we stand in this, Rom?"
Rom leaned in slightly, his voice lowering.
"We stand where Targan commands," he said, Zypherian tongue bleeding through his words. "You think I serve the Council? I serve the only one who sees the true endgame."
Shin stiffened, caught off-guard.
"You serve... Targan?"
"I am his left hand," Rom said proudly. "Verdalia is but a field on a larger board. Arco destabilizes Liliput. The Vir Empire expands in the shadows. But Targan—he's thinking beyond empires."
Another projection appeared: the Virgo System, recently conquered.
Commander 1: ArthurCommander 2Commander 20
Rom's voice dropped into something almost reverent.
"The Vir Empire sent monsters. Arthur razed four planets before leaving the system. They think Liliput will fall just as easily now. But they're wrong."
Rom turned, looking straight at Shin.
"We let them clash—Arco's rebellion, Vir's conquest, Liliput's betrayal. And in the chaos... Verdalia rises."
The room fell silent, pierced only by an incoming alert:
"Jason is engaging Vakk. Reinforcements failing. Oxygen systems compromised."
Shin clenched his fists. "Then the time for shadows is over."
Rom smiled thinly. "Not yet. Let the fire spread. Then we strike."
The ground trembled beneath the impact of clashing titans.
Jigo—Verdalian warrior of emerald flesh and flowing silver hair—twisted midair as his twin plasma-blades collided with the crackling axe of Kroouch, Chief of the Royal Army. Sparks flared like meteors between them, illuminating the battlefield in rhythmic bursts of orange and green.
"You Verdalians are as arrogant as your ancestors," Kroouch growled, swinging downward with feral strength.
"And you're still licking boots of tyrants!" Jigo retorted, crossing his blades to block. The shockwave from the impact blasted a crater beneath their feet.
All around them, Verdalian warriors poured from Ships 1, 11, and 20, weapons blazing, engaging the Royal Zypherian Soldiers in vicious combat under Captain Shin's command.
Captain Shin, mounted atop a hover-scout, barked into his comms,
"Hold the front line! Buy us 15 minutes! If Jason isn't found by then—we leave!"
A little behind the frontline, Rom, the left hand of Targan, moved like a ghost amid the chaos. Clad in obsidian battle robes, his steps were soundless. Around him, six figures from the Scorched Branch, faces hidden behind scorched-bone masks, struck silently and surgically—disabling supply lines, sabotaging enemy hover-tanks.
Rom's eyes gleamed beneath his hood as he watched the battlefield unravel.
"This isn't our war to win," he murmured to his lieutenant, Vaen, another Scorched Branch agent. "Only one objective: find Jason. Secure the route to Narlak's Maw. And vanish."
Vaen nodded, activating his tracker, scanning for Jason's beacon.
"Still no signal. He's either deep underground… or unconscious."
The Verdalian formation broke into three fronts:
Left flank held by the Silver Claws, elite jungle-trained Verdalians.Center commanded by Captain Shin himself.Right flank guarded by Rom's Scorched Branch operatives blending into the shadows.
Jigo and Kroouch's duel tore through the center, dangerously close to Shin's command post.
Suddenly, Kroouch's war axe ignited with Zypherian Ember-Tech, its edge vibrating at sonic frequency. He struck with enough force to tear through an exo-shell.
"You'll fall before your commander's corpse, Jigo!" he bellowed.
Jigo sidestepped, barely, but a deep gash opened across his arm.
"I don't fall for dead tyrants," he hissed, twisting into a low arc and slashing at Kroouch's knees.
Ships 1, 11, and 20 hovered above, defensive shields flickering as they absorbed incoming fire.
Their mission was not conquest, but extraction.
Each ship carried:
Emergency food modules for the Liberation Army.Medical supplies for Verdalia's broken provinces.Encrypted data stolen from the Lilliput royal network.
And most importantly—the only surviving coordinates to Narlak's Maw, the secret Scorched Branch hideout led by the elusive Rovin.
Rom received a ping in his earpiece.
"Verdalian Command to Ground Lead—Jason's beacon just flared. Sector 4C. Bio-signal alive but faint."
Rom's eyes narrowed.
"You heard him," he called to Shin. "We have our ghost."
Shin didn't hesitate.
"Squad Delta, on me! Break through to 4C! Secure the commander!"
Battle intensified.
Jigo and Kroouch's clash shook the earth.
Rom led the Scorched into deeper trenches, their cloaks weaving through smoke.
Ships 1, 11, and 20 lowered their ramps—engines ready to launch.
Rom turning back for one last look at the battlefield as the Verdalian extraction squad sprints toward Jason's last known location.
Kroouch, noticing the shift in focus, roars, "They're retreating! After them! Don't let them escape with their commander!"
Verdalian cannons fire a wall of plasma flame, cutting a line between the soldiers and their escape ships.
In the chaos, Rom whispers:
"Let them think we run. Let them chase shadows. We carry the spark… and soon, the fire."
Upper Eastern Zone — 10 kilometers away from the battlefield
A soft wind stirred the dust outside an ancient stone temple, half-buried in crimson sand and vine-wrapped ruins. The skies above still shimmered from the aftershock of the massive battle, but here… there was silence. Sacred. Untouched.
Inside the broken temple, lit by shafts of pale blue light through shattered ceiling runes, two figures sat near a crumbling statue of the First Verdalian King.
One of them was Jason, still breathing heavily, armor scratched and marked with victory. The other, cloaked in weathered brown robes, his skin leathery and pale with age, was Mek'lar—father of Rovin, the leader of the Scorched Branch.
Jason leaned against a stone pillar, one hand still gripping the hilt of his shattered sideblade.
"I counted two thousand soldiers. And that monster... Vakk. All gone."
He exhaled. "My arms are numb."
Mek'lar looked at him with quiet awe.
"Son, I've walked this world for two centuries. Seen champions rise and fall. But I've never seen a warrior like you. You wield the Fantom Arts of Silver... arts so rare they exist only in whispered legends."
Jason shrugged, brushing sand from his armor.
"Forget the legends, old man. I'm Jason, Commander of the Verdalian Relive Scouts. Thirty ships—well, twenty-nine now. I've sworn to liberate the Liliput Star System from its twin tyrannies: the false kings and the Vir Empire."
Mek'lar's gaze lingered on him thoughtfully.
"Still… I have never heard of your name in any of the Verdalian chronicles."
Jason gave a half-smirk.
"That's because my story isn't written yet."
The ancient temple vibrated gently as a breeze moved through its hollowed hallways.
Jason turned serious again.
"Old man, tell me something. The king—Laco. He once pleaded for aid. Spoke with kindness. He claimed he wanted to end poverty, uplift the people. Why is he now turning on his own citizens? What changed?"
Mek'lar's expression darkened.
"That... is something even I don't fully understand. But I do know this—we won't find the answers here."
He looked toward the cracked entrance of the temple, where the shadows of evening were beginning to fall.
"Three days ago, my unit and I came here to protest against the royal throne's violence. We carried no weapons—just our voices. The Royal Army responded with death. My soldiers were slaughtered. All of them."
His voice caught in his throat.
"I should have died with them… but then you appeared. You saved me, son. I owe you my life."
Jason stood slowly, adjusting his broken armor plate and holding out a hand.
"Then it's time we stop hiding in ruins and start finding the truth. You said your son, Rovin, leads the Scorched Branch?"
Mek'lar nodded.
"Then we go to Narlak's Meadows."
Outside the temple, the desert wind grew stronger, kicking up trails of dust as the two men set off toward the distant horizon.
"The answers we seek," Jason said quietly, "might just light the fire that frees the entire star system."