Location: Battlefront – Rocky Cliffs of Vokar-17's Central Crescent Ridge
Time: Day 3 | Late Morning
Dust and fire lit the edge of the battlefield as the Verdalian lead ships—1, 11, and 20— remained locked in a deadly standoff with Commander Kroouch's elite Royal Zypherian Guard. Red energy blasts from Zypherian shock rifles sliced through the haze while shimmering green shields from Verdalian hover-tanks held firm. Verdalia's finest warriors clashed with the genetically enhanced troopers of the Vir-backed royal line.
Amid the chaos, in the control bay of Ship-1, Captain Shin stood poised, analyzing the fast-escalating combat through a holo-projection of the terrain. Sparks flickered behind him as a nearby console burst from an energy blast.
A young Zypherian—Rom, assistant to Ka'roth and a newly aligned ally—rushed in with urgency.
"Captain Shin! I've just received a secure transmission from Narlak's Maw. The other 26 ships have reached the stronghold and are unloading supplies for the Scorched Branch and Eyrvaks. Our alliance is officially recognized across all rebel factions."
Shin narrowed his eyes at the projection of the battlefield.
"Good. That leaves us with one more priority: Commander Jason Amberdank."
"He hasn't made contact since the eastern skirmish. You said… 2000 royal soldiers were wiped out?"
Rom nodded, brushing dust from his red-and-gray uniform.
"Yes, sir. The Upper Eastern Sector. Jason was last seen alongside Mek'lar—Rovin's father. They disappeared after the battle."
Captain Shin nodded grimly.
"Then we follow that path. Jason made his choice—and so shall we."
"All units, prepare for tactical withdrawal. We're heading to the Upper Eastern Sector."
On the frontlines, Captain Jigo, the silver-haired Verdalian combat lead, clashed directly with Commander Kroouch—a brutal Lower B-Class warrior. Their Fantom Arts had scorched the very ground.
Jigo, though evenly matched, stepped back as a signal blinked on his wrist console—Shin's retreat command.
"Understood," Jigo growled.
Jigo launched a smoke-veil beacon into the air. Instantly, a dome of compressed green plasma burst over the battlefield, disorienting the Zypherian troops with a magnetic interference field.
The three Verdalian ships shifted into a pre-programmed Trident Retreat Formation:
Ship 1 covered the rear with shield projectors
Ship 11 deployed decoy drones simulating engine signatures
Ship 20 led the exit path, blasting open an old ravine route beneath the canyon
Engines roared to life, lifting off with stunning coordination as Jigo leapt into the lead ship.
Explosions echoed in the sky. Kroouch shielded his eyes as the formation vanished into the thick smoke toward the Upper Eastern route.
Inside the royal Zypherian mobile command outpost, Kroouch—visibly agitated—snarled at a subordinate.
"Those bastards planned it. They're heading east—toward the dead zone."
He stormed into the encrypted relay chamber and activated a high-priority line.
"Royal Palace—Vokar-17. Patch me through to King Laco. I demand immediate contact."
"Verdalia is no longer on a relief mission… They've officially joined the rebellion."
As the red signal pulsed, Kroouch's hand clenched.
"This isn't a border dispute anymore. This… is war."
The scorched sands of Vokar-17 quaked beneath the fierce clash of two titans—Jodu, the Upper B-Class warrior and right-hand man of Rovin, versus Roouch, the infamous Royal Commander and brother of Kroouch.
The battlefield was littered with the injured and the fallen, smoke rising into the heavy skies. Bill, bleeding and barely conscious, struggled to lift himself, surrounded by fellow Eyrvaks fighters who had fought valiantly, though outmatched. Roouch stood tall among the chaos, his six bloodstained arms soaked in victory, eyes locked with the emerging threat.
Then, with a storm-like pressure, Jodu arrived.
Crimson energy swirled around him—pure Fantom Arts of Red surging from his core. His muscles rippled, and each of his six arms blazed with an intense red aura. Roouch smirked, recognizing him immediately.
"So, the Scorched Branch sends its dog," Roouch taunted.
Jodu didn't speak. He charged, lightning-fast, fists igniting the air as he launched his signature technique—Gaseous Destruction Punch.
All six fists struck as one. A colossal burst of compressed red energy blasted outward, shaking the terrain and creating a massive shockwave that sent Roouch flying across the valley, smashing through rock and metal alike.
Eyrvaks soldiers gasped. The battlefield fell into stunned silence.
Jodu landed near the injured Bill and reached down. "Stand. You're not dying today."
Bill coughed, blood painting his lip. "Why…why save me?"
Jodu helped him up. "Because of the brotherhood. The alliance. I was ordered to protect this cause."
He paused. "Where is your leader, Targan?"
Bill's eyes flickered with worry. "He's alive. Barely. They took him to our hideout in the Ashen Mountains. Krith and the others are with him."
Jodu nodded. "Good. Targan must live. He's the fire your people need."
As the last of the Eyrvaks were pulled away by their comrades, Jodu turned, walking away toward the dark horizon.
"I wasn't sent to save you. I came for Mek'lar—Master of History. Rovin's father. My mission continues," he said, voice steady. "But remember this—when the time comes, I expect you all to rise. This was just a skirmish. The war is coming."
Without another word, Jodu vanished into the shadows of Vokar's canyons, leaving the shaken battlefield behind.
The smoke of battle still lingered in the broken valley of Vokar-17. Scorched rocks, deep craters, and shattered weapons lay strewn about as Roouch, bruised and breathing heavily, limped across the battlefield. His armor was cracked from Jodu's Gaseous Destruction Punch, and blood trickled from his lips.
He looked around—the Eyrvaks were gone. Bill, the rebel fighters, and even Jodu had disappeared into the shadows.
Frustrated, he slammed his fist into the cracked ground. "Damn it. This was supposed to be the end of them."
He activated his communicator, contacting Commander Fin, a higher-ranking Zypherian within the royal forces.
"Commander Fin, this is Roouch. They've escaped. Jodu interfered… again."
The holographic screen flickered to life, revealing Commander Fin, tall and cloaked in black royal armor. His four eyes narrowed. "You were outmatched, again, Roouch. This is becoming a pattern."
Roouch lowered his head. "The enemy's stronger than we calculated. We need reinforcements."
Fin's expression tightened. "Leave that to the royals. There's something bigger moving now."
He disconnected and turned to his own private chamber. From within the grand walls of a floating fortress orbiting Planet Zelkaris, Fin knelt before a larger holographic screen.
A new figure appeared.
He was regal, tall, and stern—Prince Varel Laco, nephew to King Laco, the shadowy ruler of Vokar-17 and current head of the Lilliput Star System. Varel, unlike his uncle, wore robes of dark blue and platinum, and his eyes burned with both intellect and ambition.
Fin bowed. "My prince. Roouch has failed. Again."
Varel folded his six arms and stared out his window. "Uncle Laco… continues to fail this star system. He let the Vir Empire use us like pawns. He allowed revolts, poverty, and planetary decay. And now… Verdalians walk freely on our soil."
He turned sharply toward Fin. "That ends now."
"What do you command, my lord?" Fin asked.
Prince Varel spoke clearly. "I'm summoning all ten planetary kings of the Lilliput Star System for a Grand Royal Holographic Council. Two days from now. Every royal must attend, no matter their loyalty."
Fin looked stunned. "A council hasn't been called in nearly fifty years…"
Varel's voice sharpened. "Then it's time. If Laco won't protect this star system… then perhaps I will."
As the transmission ended, the wheels of rebellion and royal upheaval had begun to turn—from the shadows of the stars themselves.