The shuttle descended through the thick, mist-coated sky of Shan, its metallic hull reflecting the city's towering neon skyline. Today was meant to be a day of justice, yet the air felt heavier than any victory. As the engines lowered in pitch and the gates opened, Lu Shan stepped out first, his steps slow, measured, lacking any trace of triumph. Behind him walked Allister Spark, wrists bound, posture defeated, head bowed. Soldiers flanked either side, forming a tight corridor of protection.
But Shan's citizens had already gathered in the tens of thousands.
A sea of faces stretched across both sides of the fortified pathway—workers in thermal suits, families wrapped in coats, elderly citizens leaning on canes, all standing shoulder-to-shoulder behind barriers. The cold morning air seemed to amplify their fury. As Allister emerged, the crowd erupted.
A bottle smashed on the ground beside him.
"MURDERER!" a voice roared.
"ROT IN PRISON, YOU SCUM!" another man yelled before spitting on the ground in front of Allister's feet.
A grieving woman shrieked with trembling rage, "YOU KILLED MY FATHER!" She attempted to hurl herself forward, screaming, sobbing violently before security restrained her.
Allister Spark didn't flinch. He seemed to shrink deeper into himself, tucking his chin into his chest, walking in a slow trance. His breaths were shallow, his eyes unfocused. He was mentally somewhere else—somewhere far away from Shan's metallic towers, somewhere green, quiet, and warm.
He was daydreaming of Rukan, the planet of nature he loved.
Lu Shan walked beside him, silent. He didn't wave to supporters, didn't acknowledge praise, didn't smile. He felt nothing—not pride, not vengeance. Just exhaustion. His boots struck the ground automatically. His body was present, but his mind drifted like a ghost behind him.
The only person who embraced the moment was Beray.
The 28-year-old genius scientist strutted behind them with a proud, smug grin. He waved to the cheering sections of the crowd like a celebrity at a parade. His short, spiky black hair caught the sunlight, and every now and then he ran his fingers through it with theatrical flair. Under Lu Ghan, he had been invisible, hidden away as a mere tool. Under Lu Shan, he was front and centre, the architect of Shan's technological dominance.
"Way to go, boys!" a man shouted.
"You got him! You finally got the bas—!"
Applause broke out in scattered clusters. Some chanted Lu Shan's name with reverence. Others celebrated Beray as if he were the true hero.
But to Lu Shan, the noise felt distant—like hearing the world from underwater.
He kept walking.
The group reached the back entrance of Shan Central Prison. The front of the building was surrounded by victims of the conflict—families who had lost sons, daughters, parents. Bringing Allister through that would have created a riot. So Lu Shan led him through a narrow side street.
"This way," he said quietly.
Allister blinked, snapping out of his daydream for a moment. He followed the command without a single word.
Inside the station, police officers had formed a guard of honour, applauding as Lu Shan and Beray entered with Allister.
The praise was loud, genuine, enthusiastic.
"The day has finally come!" one officer shouted.
"That scumbag is finished!" another spat, glaring at Allister with venom.
"Lock him in and let him rot!"
Lu Shan stopped walking. His voice cut through the room like cold steel.
"Enough."
The station froze.
"Remember your professionalism," he continued firmly. "Allister Spark must still stand trial."
A few officers exchanged awkward glances.
"Yes, my Lord," one muttered before returning to work.
Lu Shan escorted Allister personally to an isolated cell. The walls were lined with plasma-resistant alloy. The room was small, bare, intentionally uncomfortable. When the door slid open, Allister stepped inside without glancing back. He walked straight to the far wall and stood there, facing it as if it were a portal to Rukan.
"You'll be in here," Lu Shan said.
Allister didn't respond.
"I'll be back tomorrow with the interrogation team," Lu continued. "I think we can come to an arrangement—not just for you, but for your planet."
Still no response. Just silence. Allister remained in a trance, his breathing shallow, his shoulders rising and falling slowly.
Lu Shan stared at him for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he left the cell. The metallic door sealed shut behind him with a heavy, echoing thud.
Outside, Beray walked beside him.
"My Lord," Beray said, adjusting his glasses. "I have an important matter to discuss with you later."
"Later, Beray," Lu sighed, running his fingers through his jet-black hair. "I just need time to myself."
Beray tilted his head. "Of course. If you need me, I'll be in the lab."
Lu Shan returned to the palace with his two bodyguards, Aroo and Benni.
"Aroo, Benni… I'll be okay. I just need time alone."
"Of course, my Lord," Aroo said. "We'll be right outside."
Inside his quarters, the loneliness struck him immediately. The room was silent, the lights dim, the air still. He walked slowly toward the mirror and looked at his reflection.
He didn't recognise the man staring back.
His eyes were darker. His posture heavier. His expression cold, tired, almost hollow. Tears welled around his eyelids but refused to fall. He remembered being a child—carefree, hopeful, full of laughter. He remembered training with Allister, learning diplomacy from his parents, playing with his older sister in the palace gardens.
But now—they were gone.
His parents, dead.
His sister, gone.
And now Allister, the closest thing he had to an uncle, was a prisoner.
He was leader of an advanced planet, yet he'd never felt more alone.
---
After a long bath and several attempts to relax, a knock came at the door.
Standing outside was Beray, wearing casual clothes for the first time Lu had ever seen. But his oversized glasses remained.
"My Lord," Beray grinned. "I have a gift for you."
Lu's eyes widened slightly. Gifts were rare—birthdays were no longer celebrations, just political meetings and war briefings.
"Beray… you shouldn't have."
"Nonsense," Beray said. "You've been a remarkable leader. You deserve this."
He stepped inside carrying a heavy briefcase. With a click, he opened it—and golden light reflected onto the walls.
Inside was a golden combat suit and a matching golden headband.
Lu Shan gasped. "What is this…?"
"It is your Commander Combat Suit," Beray said proudly, chest puffed out.
He continued explaining with enthusiastic precision:
"Firstly, the communicator. Touch the icon on your chest and think of a soldier—your message will transmit directly into their mind."
"Secondly, the suit is flame and fire retardant. It is bullet-proof, plasma-proof, explosion-proof. It cannot be crushed."
"And lastly… your one vulnerability was your face. The headband creates a force field that diverts any physical attack away from your head."
Lu stared at the suit in disbelief. It glowed brilliantly, each plate of gold engraved with intricate Shan symbols.
"So it's virtually indestructible," he whispered.
"Not virtually," Beray corrected with a grin. "It is indestructible."
He lifted his chin with pride. "One hundred billion coins' worth of gold and technology."
Lu nearly choked. "Beray—that's insane. That's too much for one man."
"That is why we made only one," Beray replied. "And it is for you. Your survival is essential to Shan."
Lu reluctantly accepted the suit. As Beray left, closing the door softly behind him, Lu sat on the edge of his bed staring at the armour.
How did things reach this point? How had peace vanished so quickly? How did a boy who once dreamed of uniting planets end up overseeing imprisonments, trials, and wars?
---
Over the next few days, Lu Shan wore the golden suit everywhere. Citizens reacted with mixed emotions.
Some bowed deeply in awe, believing a ruler should radiate strength and authority.
Others whispered criticism—calling it wasteful, arrogant, symbolic of everything wrong with Shan's elite.
But Lu didn't care anymore. The coldness building inside him drowned out public opinion. Every time he looked in the mirror, he began to see his father's reflection staring back.
Allister's upcoming trial weighed heavily on him. Not just because Allister was once family, but because he represented an entire planet. The verdict would decide the future of both worlds.
Yet before we continue with these events—the trial, the alliances, the betrayals—we must turn back the page of history.
Fifty years into the past.
To the outskirts of the Crimson Galaxy.
To a planet called Zee, and a kingdom known as Maroo.