Darkness veiled the royal chamber at the heart of Segment 1, the fortified capital of Vokar-17—and the central seat of power over the entire Lilliput Star System. Walls layered with ancient Zypherian etchings surrounded a circular throne room lit only by green fire orbs. In the center, a tall, lean figure cloaked in black silk stood motionless: King Laco, his true face veiled in silhouette, eyes glowing with faint crimson.
A holographic transmission flickered to life—Roouch, the fearsome Royal Commander and younger brother to Kroouch, kneeled with bruises and scars painting his red Zypherian skin. His six arms rested against the marble floor, the signal fuzzing slightly from the orbital distance.
"Speak, Roouch," came Laco's hollow voice.
Roouch bowed low. "Your Majesty… the Eyrvaks have escaped. But I assure you—the capital in Segment 1 remains safe, and the outer zones are under control."
There was a long silence.
Then Laco spoke, cold and cutting, "So, a Verdalian in the Upper Eastern Sector kills 30 of our Grade Two Androids… defeats 2,000 Royal Zypherian warriors under Vakk, and—" he paused, voice darkening, "—rescues Mek'lar, father of Rovin. And you let the Eyrvaks escape?"
Roouch clenched his jaw. "Your Majesty, I summoned this call to confess… and to report something vital. Before we engaged them, I shot Targan with a tracker dart. Though gravely injured, he escaped with his followers. Our analysts tracked the signal. I believe we've located the Eyrvaks' hideout—likely nestled somewhere within the Ashen Mountains."
King Laco shifted in his shadowed throne. "So you intend to raid the base?"
Roouch nodded. "Yes, sire. If we move swiftly, we can crush them all—Targan, Ka'roth, and their entire chain of command."
The king let out a low exhale. "Very well… I will forgive your failures, Commander. But your next step must bring total victory. They are amassing forces now: the Liberation Army, the Scorched Branch, and even these… Verdalians."
His voice became thunderous.
"Effective immediately, I am recalling all Grade Two Androids from scattered posts. Every commander, every regiment, from all ten planets of the Lilliput Star System, will return to their posts and prepare for mass mobilization. We strike them before they're ready."
From the orbit of Vokar-17, ten brilliant planets shimmered like jewels strung on a cosmic thread—each spinning in quiet servitude beneath Laco's iron grip.
Each planet—Zelkaris, Orvus, Myra, Shadrax, Eldrion, Drest, Volturna, Hythrax, Noxera, and Vokar-17—was divided into ten massive city-sized sectors called Segments. Every segment was a sprawling green zone encased within colossal, ancient Zypherian walls, lush with bio-engineered flora, artificial sunlight, and atmospheric purification.
These were sanctuaries for the elite, built atop the ruins of a dying world. Outside the walls: wastelands, slums, poisoned rivers, and enslaved workers.
Segment 1 – the Royal Capital, where King Laco reigned.
Segment 2, ruled by Varel, Laco's nephew and an ambitious Zypherian noble with whispers of rebellion in his heart.
Segments 3–10 formed sprawling administrative, military, and industrial complexes, each hosting garrisons, tech hubs, or feeding centers, all powered by trade with the Vir Empire.
In each planet, these ten walled cities were the only safe zones—bastions of wealth amid planetary decay.
And now, the walls of power were stirring.
Back in the capital, Laco's voice echoed through the hologram before ending the call:
"Roouch. You have one chance. March on the Ashen Mountains. Destroy the rebels. Eliminate Jason Amberdenk. Crush Verdalia's ships. Bring their heads to Segment 1… or don't return at all."
As the transmission cut, Roouch stood, fire in his eyes.
The war for the soul of the Lilliput Star System was about to ignite.
The wind howled gently over the ravines of Narlak's Maw, a rugged sanctuary etched into the jagged bones of Vokar-17's southern cliffs. The skies burned gold under a dying sun as three colossal Verdalian ships—Ship 1, Ship 11, and Ship 20—pierced through the clouds and finally descended into the Maw.
The ground trembled. Dust swirled. Refugees and rebel soldiers paused their work, children ran toward the ridges, and elders looked up with a mixture of hope and disbelief.
This was the final fleet's arrival.
Now, 24 humongous Verdalian ships stood parked like guardians of destiny around the canyon edges, their green emblems of the Great Tree etched into their hulls—symbols of rebirth and unity, glowing softly against the decay of Vokar.
As the gangways lowered, Verdalian warriors in formation marched out, clad in emerald combat suits lined with silver. From Ship 1, Captain Shin stepped down first—composed, proud, his long silver hair tied back. Behind him came the vibrant navigator Lina, the tech tactician Louis, the stoic but loyal lieutenant Phill, and the warrior Jigo, hands still bandaged from his clash with Kroouch.
Then silence fell.
A soft thud echoed as boots hit the soil.
From the shadows of Ship 1, a towering figure emerged—cloaked in a long, ash-grey coat, his body bloodied but upright, eyes sharp, silver hair flowing against the wind.
Commander Jason Amberdenk had arrived.
Gasps filled the canyon. Soldiers turned. Mothers whispered. A dozen Zypherian rebels dropped to their knees without thinking. Even Verdalian troops, hardened by war, felt their chests tighten with awe.
From behind him stepped a Zypherian not dressed like the rest—a six-armed, four-eyed elder with deep scars and robes torn by time: Mek'lar, the legend, the father of the Scorched Branch's leader.
With slow, deliberate steps, he raised his voice.
"You all see the man who walks beside me… a stranger to our star system… a Verdalian, born across 55 light-years… But this man—this warrior—defeated two thousand royal Zypherian soldiers and thirty Grade Two androids, all to save me, a withered rebel elder from a world that is not his."
He stepped aside, placing a hand on Jason's shoulder.
"This is Jason Amberdenk, Commander of Verdalia… but today, he stands here not just as a commander… but as a beacon of hope for us all."
The silence was broken only by the sound of Rovin, the proud and fearsome Leader of the Scorched Branch, stepping forward.
With fire in his eyes and respect in his heart, he walked slowly toward Jason.
All eyes watched. The leader of one of the mightiest rebel factions was now standing face to face with an outsider… who had done more in days than most had dared in years.
Then, Rovin dropped to one knee, his head lowered.
"On behalf of my people… on behalf of my father… and for the sake of all ten worlds suffering under tyranny… I thank you, Jason Amberdenk. Not as a guest… but as one of us."
Tears welled in the eyes of Verdalian and Zypherian alike. The wind carried no smoke, no fear—only faith.
Jason, lifting Rovin back to his feet, placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Let's end this together."
And with that, the Alliance of Three—Verdalia, The Scorched Branch, and Eyrvaks—felt complete.
The sun disappeared behind the cliffs, but in Narlak's Maw, something far brighter had risen: Hope.
The ROT CITY – SECTOR 9, VOKAR-17
The sun never truly rose in Rot Cities—cities built outside the lush royal segments, where millions of Zypherians rotted in dust, pain, and slavery. Beneath the blood-colored flags of the Vir Empire and the Royal Lilliput Emblem, despair was not a stranger—it was the air they breathed.
In Rot City Darnak-9, Kuaq'Sire, a cruel Zypherian taskmaster with bronze scales and sharpened metallic claws, stood atop a rusted tower, barking commands into a screeching microphone.
Below him, over a lakh of Zypherians, including children, elders, and the sick, mined away at the planet's crust, harvesting precious metals once meant to build dreams—now used to forge chains.
A mother, coughing blood, slumped to her knees just to feed her crying child. She paused her digging—only for Kuaq'Sire to raise his rifle and shoot her in the chest, execution-style.
"Work, or rot faster!" he hissed.
The child screamed, blood splattering across their worn clothes. The father, eyes lifeless, charged at the guards—but was beaten, broken, and tossed back like trash. The child, trembling, was thrown into the mining pit.
Cries echoed. Hope died.
In the shadows of Rot City Darnak-9, a young 20-year-old Zypherian sat with a group of children and youth, whispering stories in the cracks of night.
"They say… there was once a man… named Domain," he said. His voice carried warmth, his eyes glowed dimly with fire even under famine.
"He was once a slave, like us… but he rose. They say he stood next to Helius himself… and when the Universal War 2 burned across galaxies, Domain was the sword beside Helius's shield. And when the war ended, Domain vanished, but his hope never did."
A small boy with bright, curious golden eyes raised his hand.
"But I think Lord Helius was cooler! He was the king!" the boy smiled.
Another child pushed him. "No! Lord Domain was stronger!"
The youth laughed, pulling the two into a warm embrace.
"It doesn't matter who was stronger… what matters is that they fought for us."
Just then, a guard's footsteps echoed in the alley. In a flash, the young Zypherian hushed them.
All of them pretended to sleep, heads lowered. The guard passed by.
As the night returned to silence, the 20-year-old Zypherian whispered to the boy beside him.
"One day, you'll grow up… and you'll help change this world. You hear me, Kairox?"
The boy blinked, eyes glowing under the moonlight.
"I want to be like Lord Domain… or Lord Helius… or like you."
The youth smiled.
"Then start with hope."
Meanwhile, Verdalian ships glowed across the cliffs, illuminating the great Maw. The canyon echoed with laughter, food shared, and alliances sealed.
Scorched Branch rebels and Verdalian warriors feasted beside each other, laying down differences in the name of unity.
Rom sipped a rare fermented bark-ale and leaned over to Rovin.
"Hey Rovin… I didn't expect this alliance to work. But I'll admit—I'm glad. After this, I'll head back to Ashen Mountains to check on Targan."
Rovin nodded, still watching his father Mek'lar, who smiled peacefully.
"Enjoy the feast, Rom. We strike in two days."
At the canyon's edge, Jason Amberdenk stood alone, his eyes on the dying sun of the system. The stars above flickered dim—a star system suffocating in pain.
Shin approached, somber. "Commander… do you ever worry about Verdalia? About what's happening there?"
Jason stayed silent for a moment.
"Yes. Verdalia is under attack. But we must finish what we started here first."
Shin looked puzzled. "Who could be attacking Verdalia?"
Jason's eyes narrowed, full of unseen memories.
"I don't know… but I feel something… something ancient is moving."
He looked at the stars again.
"I keep thinking of Max and Warren. Of Tina. My family."
"And of the day we trained under Old Man Tom. He told me once… 'One day, you'll fight a war that's not just for land or people… but for the very soul of the universe.'"
Jason clenched his fist.
"That day is coming."
The wind blew quietly. The stars remained silent.
But something... was stirring.