Zteel

Year: 2200.

Two years had passed, but the stars hadn't changed.

Nyota lay stretched out in the grass atop the same familiar hills, the cool breeze brushing against his skin just as it always had.

He took deep breaths and meditated.

At seventeen, Nyota had grown taller, stronger, but he still came to this spot whenever he needed to think, to breathe, to feel like himself.

The moon tonight was a crescent, sharp and faint compared to the full brightness he remembered from that night two years ago.

Back then, he'd been a boy wrestling with questions that felt impossible to answer. Now, the questions were bigger and more complex.

Yet somehow, staring up at the stars still brought a somewhat fleeting sense of clarity.

Nyota had a lot on his mind. After a few deep breaths and taking in the scenery, he thought back to the words of his mother that one particular evening they ventured to the hills, what she explained about the stars and her seemingly irrelevant recollection of the existence of divinities.

Eventually, he recalled his conversation with Orion years later at Llanzo's, particularly how Orion's behavior since that day continued.

Although it hadn't been as off-putting consistently, what Orion told him then never left his mind.

Not only did his words leave him to be tormented by the thought indefinitely, but Nyota couldn't help but notice Orion hadn't seemed as exuberant as he typically was before that day.

He reflected on his father's words, his comments about the moon and especially his tangent about Nyota's resilient capability.

"What could he have meant?" Nyota thought to himself.

"What is so big that he's so sure I'm capable of? And more importantly, what could possibly be so terrible that I'd have to prepare for?"

These were the thoughts that ran persistently through his mind.

Nyota grew tired, his mind having depleted any remaining energy he had. As he fought the exhaust, his eyelids grew heavy and eventually closed, bringing forth another dream.

But in this dream, he was no longer on the hills. He stood instead in the heart of Lunenrane, surrounded by empty streets bathed in an eerie, dim light.

The familiar town felt distorted, its vibrant hum of life replaced by an oppressive silence. The air was heavy, and each breath seemed to carry the weight of something unseen.

Nyota turned, searching for any sign of movement, of life, but the town seemed frozen, abandoned almost.

The buildings stood unchanged yet somehow wrong, their outlines flickering at the edges of his vision. He took a hesitant step forward, the sound of his footfall muted as if the ground itself refused to echo his presence.

Then, the siren came. A loud, shrieking wail tore through the silence, so sudden and sharp that Nyota staggered.

The sound seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once, reverberating off the walls of the town and rattling his very core.

He covered his ears, but to no avail. The noise grew louder, unrelenting, shaking the ground beneath him.

And then, with a jolt, he woke up.

Nyota sat up in the grass, his breath ragged and his heart pounding in his chest. The stars above him were no longer a source of peace—they seemed harsh and watchful, cold in their brilliance.

But the sirens hadn't stopped. Their wailing echoed from the base of the hills, filling the night with their haunting cries.

This time, it wasn't just a nightmare. The sirens were real.

In fact, they were coming from the center of Lunenrane.

Nyota looked down beyond the town, his gaze meeting a fiery horizon near the ocean, where the night sky was tinged with shades of orange.

"What the—?!" He quickly stood and raced down the cliffside toward Lunenrane. The closer he got, the louder the distant screams and shouts became, and the air grew thicker with the scent of burning wood.

When he finally reached the gates of the town, dark figures came into view—men in black long coats, their red designs becoming visible as the fire grew. Some wore hoods, others didn't. Most were armed with firearms, and Nyota's heart skipped a beat.

The men were igniting the town ablaze with torches.

The road leading out of the town revealed an infantry, their military-grade cargo vehicles and armored trucks parked along the way.

Nyota didn't know what to do. He stood frozen behind the men, petrified, but he knew he had to act.

Summoning his courage, he pushed through the row of hooded figures and made his way toward the blazing town.

"Hey!" One of the men shouted.

The master sergeant and captain of the apparent attack looked up and saw him running.

"What the…?" He muttered, his voice gruff and tinged with a mix of confusion and mild amusement.

He wore a dark cloak, its hood pulled low over his face, shrouding his features in shadow.

What little could be seen—sharp cheekbones and a tightly drawn jaw—hinted at a hardened man accustomed to commanding in chaos.

An insignia, both red and blue—contrasting with the pure red insignia of his subordinates—was etched into the fabric over his chest.

It caught the flickering light of the flames, marking him as a figure of rank and authority among the invaders.

His stance was imposing, shoulders squared and boots firmly planted, betraying an air of control even amidst the disorder.

A pistol holster hung at his side, and a long blade glinted faintly beneath the folds of his cloak.

Though his expression remained hidden, there was a palpable menace in the way he tilted his head slightly, watching the boy dart through the chaos.

After a moment of silence, he chuckled darkly, the sound low and dismissive. "Forget it," he said to the others. "He'll either die or we'll see him again."

His words carried a chilling certainty, as if he had seen countless others attempt the impossible—and fail.

Then, he raised his arm. "Guard the gates! Don't let anyone pass!"

Nyota continued to run. His main objective was to find his parents.

As Nyota ran, his eyes burned with the sight of soldiers ruthlessly slaying villagers—adults and elders who could offer no resistance.

The chaos around him was deafening, with screams of terror cutting through the thick air and blaring horns reverberating in every direction.

He saw children—young faces frozen in fear—being rounded up by the soldiers. Their hands were bound, and they were herded like cattle toward the gates of the town, where military vehicles and armored trucks waited, engines rumbling ominously.

The world felt as if it was crumbling around him, each step taking him deeper into the nightmare. His mind raced, consumed with a singular thought—finding his parents.

But with each passing moment, his anger grew, mingling with a deep, gnawing sense of helplessness.

The realization hit him with the force of a blow: these children, these innocent lives, were being taken from their homes.

His fury burned hot in his chest as he ran, the desire for revenge pushing him forward, urging him to act before it was too late.

But then something tugged at his thoughts. As he raced through the chaos, his mind couldn't shake the growing unease.

Where was Orion? His father, the chief of Lunenrane, the man who had always defended the town from every hardship it had ever been faced with—why hadn't he been able to find him?

Shouldn't Orion have been leading the resistance, standing beside the villagers to fend off this assault?

Nyota's steps faltered for a brief moment, but he quickly shook the thoughts away. This was no time for hesitation.

He pushed forward, determined not to let anything distract him from his mission.

As Nyota neared his home, the sight that met him sent a chill down his spine.

His house—his sanctuary, the place where he had once found warmth and safety—was now nothing but a smoldering ruin.

There was no sign of either of his parents. No sign of Orion, nor his mother, Nora. Their absence only deepened his worry, gnawing at him with an intensity he couldn't ignore.

The thought of losing them, of the possibility that they were gone, felt like a weight too heavy to bear. But Nyota knew he couldn't waste any more time searching the wreckage.

Panic clawed at his chest as he scanned the area, escaping any soldiers that gave chase.

His heart raced in his chest as he ran past Lunenrane Hall, which was now abandoned and crumbling by the second.

After more panic, he ran back in the direction toward the town gates. And then, just as the fear threatened to overwhelm him, he saw her. His mother.

Nora crouched low, her hands moving swiftly as she helped a group of young children, guiding them to safety. Despite the madness around her, there was a quiet determination in her movements, a strength that Nyota had always admired.

"Mama!" Nyota called out. She looked up and ran to him, covering the small distance between them.

"Nyota, are you okay?!" She frantically checked Nyota for wounds, put her hands on his shoulders and hugged him.

"I'm fine!" Nyota assured her. "Where's Father?"

"Good," Nora breathed, her voice barely above a whisper, but filled with relief.

She paused and looked to the side, then back at him. "I'm not sure. He's supposed to be leading the defenses and yet…" Her voice trailed off as tears welled in her eyes.

Nyota's fear shifted to a burning anger.

He was furious at the hooded men ravaging Lunenrane, stripping it of its treasures, disgusted by the murders and the children being captured.

But most of all, he was angry at his father's absence. Lunenrane needed him, and yet he was nowhere to be found.

Seeing his mother cry, watching their home and peace being destroyed, shook Nyota to his core. He had never felt such a sharp sting of helplessness and rage.

"Nyota, you must run far from here," Nora urged, desperation seeping into her voice as the tears streamed down her face.

"No!" Nyota refused, his voice shaking with the intensity of his emotions. "I can't leave you, and I'm going to find him!" He pressed on, his chest tight with frustration. "This place is all I've ever known. I've got to protect it!"

"Nyota!" She shouted, her voice breaking. She could see the fire in his eyes, but it was laced with fear. She drew closer, her face crumpling with sorrow. Despite her own fear, she put on a small smile, trying to steady herself for him.

"Hey, listen to me," she said, her voice softer now, her hands resting gently on his shoulders. "There's a world far beyond just this place, Lunenrane. A world that's worth protecting just as much as here." She hesitated for a moment, looking at him intently.

"You remember, right? Our conversation up in the hills that one evening?"

Nyota's throat tightened, the memory flashing in his mind. The two of them, watching the night sky in the hills, his mother's voice speaking of stars, of destiny. The tears welling in his eyes threatened to fall, but he refused to let them.

His fists clenched at his sides, his mind too full of anger and worry to truly grasp her words. His gaze fell to the ground, his body rigid with the weight of it all.

Nora gently raised his chin, making him look at her. With a soft touch, she wiped away the tears that had begun to fall, her hands tender as she steadied him.

"Look at me," she said softly but firmly. "I want you to know that you're my star, and you shine brightest out of every star in the sky. Everyone says this. Everyone knows you're capable! You're destined to do great things. And I want you to go out there and represent us—all of us—your family."

Her lips pressed against his forehead in a gentle kiss, and she pulled him into a tight embrace. "And remember, I'm always going to be with you."

She pulled back, her hands lingering on his shoulders as she met his gaze one last time. "Now I want you to run."

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Nyota hesitated, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind, but finally, he nodded. There was no other choice.

He had to run, not just for Lunenrane, but for everything that his mother had taught him to protect.

Nyota cast one last look at Nora as she signaled him to go. Her figure, steady and resolute in the chaos, remained etched in his mind.

She stood in the middle of the street, a dazzling smile on her face, a beacon of hope and strength amidst the destruction. As he turned to run, he kept glancing back, desperate to hold on to the sight of her.

But the further he ran, the more chaos consumed the streets behind him. Flames leaped higher, shadows danced wildly, and screams mingled with the crackle of fire. The streets flooded with panic and terror until she was no longer in sight.

Now, as the weight of it all pressed against his chest, fury and heartbreak battled within him. He had lost his mother. His father—his hero—seemingly abandoned him in this dire moment.

And his hometown, the only world he had ever known, was being razed and pillaged.

Nyota's mind churned with conflicting emotions. A part of him, the child still clinging to safety, wanted to keep running as Nora had asked.

But another part of him, the burgeoning leader who bore the expectations of his people, yearned to stay and fight. To resist, to stand with the people who looked to his family for guidance.

The internal struggle tore at him, the unfairness of it all threatening to drown him. Why did he have to choose? Wasn't losing his parents enough? His thoughts spiraled, and a bitter cry echoed in his mind: "I'm way too young for this!"

Life, it seemed, had dealt him an impossible test far beyond his years. The weight of it pressed down, but his legs carried him forward, their rhythm an automatic response to the chaos around him.

He ran through the falling town, weaving through rubble and despair, until he returned to the gates of Lunenrane.

Of course, the gates were being heavily guarded by troops. They stood and watched with their weapons as Nyota approached them alone.

His steps faltered, then stopped entirely some distance from the soldiers who kept watch. His breath came in sharp, ragged gasps, his chest heaving as though it might burst under the weight of his emotions.

Slowly, his head lowered, and his shoulders sagged under the unbearable burden of choice. Anger, grief, and desperation swirled inside him like a storm waiting to erupt.

"Where's the master sergeant?" One of the troops called out.

"He went back to the cargo trucks to make sure they're prepped for the kids," another responded. "Just grab the kid yourself."

Two soldiers moved toward Nyota, their boots crunching ominously on the gravel.

Nyota's heart pounded in his chest, but he didn't move. Then, as if answering an unspoken call, sparks flickered to life in his hands.

His fingers twitched, and faint tendrils of lightning began to coil and dance around his palms. He raised them, staring in disbelief as the energy crackled and grew, spreading with an almost organic grace.

The currents flowed from his hands to his forearms, then snaked along his legs, coiling around his entire body.

The lightning circled him like a protective aura, flickering brighter with each passing second. His skin tingled with an electric charge, and the air around him seemed to hum.

Slowly, the grief and fear in his mind were replaced with something new—an intoxicating sense of power and control.

"Wow…" he murmured, his voice almost lost in the crackling of the energy. "I don't know what this is, but I like it."

For the first time, the oppressive weight of helplessness lifted. The torrent of emotions inside him found an outlet in the raw power coursing through his veins. Nyota's grief became resolve; his fear became fury.

He raised his head, and the soldiers froze. His eyes glowed an otherworldly light blue, their intensity almost blinding against the darkness of the chaos around him.

"What the—" One soldier stammered, stopping mid-stride.

More troops at the gates noticed the transformation and hurried over, their confidence faltering as the lightning swirling around Nyota arced out in small bursts, striking the ground with a sharp crack.

Nyota stood taller now, his fists clenched and his body alive with power. He didn't know where this ability had come from, but he knew one thing: it was his. And he wasn't going to let it go to waste.

"Fight for your town, your own," he thought to himself. "This is all you have right now, don't let anyone take it from you. Whatever happens, happens."

Despite his apparent powers, he knew he would still be taken into custody, if not killed since he couldn't control his newly found power, but he felt resisting the troops was the best thing to do at that moment.

So, he drew closer toward the cloaked men.

"Don't just stand there!" One of the soldiers shouted at the others around him. "Go, grab him! It's just a regular Modus—we've dealt with this countless times before!"

One of the cloaked soldiers raised a hefty technological firearm, its sleek frame glowing with neon blue lines that pulsed ominously. The weapon's barrel hummed with barely contained energy as he aimed it directly at Nyota, his finger tightening on the trigger.

"Stand down!" Another soldier hissed, shoving the barrel toward the ground with a forceful hand. "Are you insane?! If you kill him, the captain and Noriko will both have our heads!"

The first soldier hesitated, his grip on the weapon unsteady as he glanced nervously between Nyota and his companion.

"What are we supposed to do, then?" The armed soldier growled, his voice tinged with frustration and fear. "He's clearly not coming quietly, and I'm not sticking around to see what else he can do!"

The second soldier stepped in front of him, lowering his own voice to a menacing whisper. "You know the orders! This one's threatening, we could reap a big reward."

Nyota caught fragments of their conversation, his glowing eyes narrowing as he realized their hesitation. His fists clenched, the lightning coursing around him flaring brighter. It didn't matter why they wanted him alive—he wasn't about to let them take him.

The soldiers cautiously approached Nyota, their boots crunching against the scorched ground, forming a tight circle around him. Their movements were deliberate, their postures tense.

The air crackled faintly, charged with the unnatural hum of electricity.

Nyota widened his stance, his body low and centered. He closed his eyes, drawing in a deep, steadying breath, his chest rising slowly, before exhaling sharply.

Without warning, two soldiers lunged. One darted behind Nyota, locking his arms in a firm grip, while the other dove at his legs, intent on grounding him.

But before their tactics could take hold, Nyota exploded into action. A burst of blue lightning surged beneath his feet, propelling him upward.

With a fluid twist of his body, he drove both feet into the chest of the soldier in front, sending him sprawling several feet away before crashing to the ground in a heap.

The soldier behind grunted, straining to maintain his hold, but Nyota's momentum was relentless.

In a flash, he arched backward and flipped over his attacker, the movement unnaturally fast—almost like the crack of a lightning bolt.

As he landed, he twisted sharply, his leg connecting with the soldier's temple in a precise, lightning-charged kick. The man crumpled to the ground, unconscious before he hit the dirt.

The glow of Nyota's aura deepened, illuminating his determined expression. He whispered the name of his technique, the words carrying a strange resonance: "Blue Lightning Technique: Thunderbolt Drive!"

The remaining soldiers hesitated for only a moment before charging together, their fists and feet striking in chaotic unison. But Nyota was ready.

With a mix of agility and newfound power, he deflected their blows—dodging, weaving, and countering with a calculated precision.

Each move was punctuated by sharp, crackling bursts of lightning as he struck back, his attacks landing with electrified precision.

Finally, with a battle cry that echoed over the chaos of Lunenrane, he unleashed a charged fist strike. The impact reverberated through the circle of soldiers, sending the last of them crashing to the ground, lightning sparking across their bodies as they groaned in defeat.

Nyota stood tall amidst the fallen men, his chest heaving and his eyes blazing with light, the storm within him unleashed.

The captain of the attack turned back to the gates behind him, deciphering the mayhem.

"What could possibly be going on now?" He could see the aftermath of Nyota's brawl with the soldiers, positioned at the gates with sparks of blue lightning flashing in the air.

Realizing that the fallen soldiers had been a result of Nyota's doing, he chuckled.

"I see he gave them problems."

"Thanks, Father," he wiped his face and whispered. "I have no damn clue where you are, but those combat lessons are starting to finally pay off."

"Aye!" One of the struggling troops tried to signal others around in the area. "Send back up near the gates! We have a lost one!"

Nyota's mind raced as he refocused, the weight of the situation settling into his bones. His heart pounded, but the new surge of power within him steadied his breath.

His instinct was clear: run.

With his newfound ability fueling his movements, he sprinted toward the main road beyond the town gates, where the captain and the vehicles waited.

His feet pounded the earth beneath him, and the familiar streets of Lunenrane blurred as he closed the distance between himself and the captain.

The soldiers surrounding the cargo vehicles seemed insignificant now. His only focus was on the captain.

As he neared, adrenaline surged. Without hesitation, Nyota leaped into the air, his body propelled by the blue lightning crackling around his feet.

He aimed to strike, to knock the captain aside and create a path. But his assault was met with an unexpected calm.

The captain stood his ground, expression unshaken, as if he had been expecting the move. He didn't even flinch as Nyota descended toward him.

A pitying look crossed the captain's face, and then, with a slow, deliberate gesture, he raised his hand.

"Elemental Modus: Wind Breaker."

Suddenly, a powerful gust of wind erupted around Nyota. The force of it coalesced into a spherical barrier, surrounding him in midair.

His momentum was immediately halted, and he was frozen in place, suspended above the ground. Time seemed to stretch as the wind globe cocooned him, cutting off his ability to move.

He tried to break free, struggling against the invisible force that held him captive. His limbs flailed, but the wind globe remained unyielding, solid as stone.

Each time he attempted to push against it, he felt a drain on his energy, as if the very air was stealing his strength. The more he fought, the weaker he became.

His body slowly descended toward the ground, still trapped within the globe. His hopes of breaking free grew dimmer with each passing second.

The captain approached slowly, his footsteps deliberate and calculated as he crouched down to Nyota's level. His eyes studied the young man trapped in the wind globe, a mixture of disdain and amusement flickering across his features.

With a slow, deliberate motion, the captain removed his cloak's hood, revealing his face—an expression of cold, indifferent authority.

His sharp features were framed by the shadows of the night, the faint light from the burning town illuminating his face clearly.

"That power of yours is something, isn't it?" He said, his voice low and mocking. He tilted his head slightly, as if genuinely curious, though his tone suggested otherwise. "It's raw, untamed. But what good is power if you can't control it?"

Nyota gritted his teeth, his frustration growing with each word. He could feel the drain of the globe still sucking at his energy, but his anger only fueled his resolve. The captain's dismissive tone only made him more determined to find a way out.

"Where are your parents, boy?" The captain's voice turned colder, the casual demeanor slipping for a moment. "Dead, perhaps."

He referred to Nyota's abilities. "You think you can take on a whole army with that?

You're not even worth the effort, but I'll admit, I'm impressed you were able to take out those imbeciles. You're entertaining... for now."

Nyota's glare hardened, but he remained silent, eyes fixed on the captain. Inside, his mind churned, desperately searching for a way to break free from this force that held him so helplessly.

He breathed, a condescending display of pity. "I'm sure you're wondering who I am. I would be the man responsible for making your life right now a living hell. But don't worry, not for much longer.

The name's Elwin. Elwin Newton.

But you're not going to remember that… now are you?"

Then, the captain stood and looked down the hill back toward Lunenrane's gates. "I could just kill you now, but I pity you," he walked back to the convoy.

"Noriko's going to take a liking to you."

He walked back to the convoy. "Noriko's going to take a liking to you."

He signaled to the cloaked men near the vehicles, his voice commanding and cold as he gestured for them. "Round up the remaining resistance!"

But as he turned back to Nyota, a subtle shift occurred. His tone softened, almost dripping with condescension, as he lowered his voice, letting the words hang in the air like a venomous afterthought.

"If you could even call it that."

The soldiers' laughter echoed through the night, a cruel mockery of everything Nyota had fought for. A couple of them approached him, grabbing him roughly as they cuffed his hands behind his back.

His mind screamed for escape, but his body was too weak, too overwhelmed by what was happening.

They shoved him into the back of one of the cargo vehicles, where other captured youth were already huddled together, their eyes wide with fear and confusion.

One by one, the soldiers rounded up the remaining youth, each of them thrown into the cold, metal truck with no care or compassion. The convoy began to move, the rumble of the engines a steady, oppressive reminder of their helplessness.

As the trucks rolled away from the smoldering ruins of Lunenrane, Nyota's heart sank.

The flickering flames from his hometown were slowly extinguishing, the smoke drifting up into the sky like the last remnants of a dying world.

Ashes continued to fall like snowflakes, covering the ground and the town he had once known, until it was all reduced to a memory.

The other children around him wept quietly, their bodies trembling as they clung to each other, too young to understand the full weight of what was happening but feeling it all the same.

Those who resisted—tried to flee from their captors—were quickly silenced by the soldiers, their lives snuffed out without hesitation.

Nyota felt a sickening tightness in his chest. His body felt heavy with fear and anger, but it was the heartbreak that crushed him the most.

His thoughts spiraled, fixating on the image of his mother—her smiling face as she urged him to run, to survive. The pain of losing her, of never seeing her again, gnawed at his soul.

He gazed up at the sky, his eyes locking onto the moon. It was full, its pale light cutting through the night like a beacon, surrounded by stars that shimmered with an intensity he had never noticed before.

His mother's words echoed in his mind—stars represented the souls of vengeful people. Was one of them hers? Or was she simply lost to him forever?

As he watched, the stars seemed to shift, one by one dimming until only one remained, glowing faintly in the vast expanse of sky.

Nyota couldn't help but believe that star was his mother, watching over him, urging him to stay strong.

But then his thoughts turned to his father, Orion. If his mother was gone, surely his father was too. A sharp, hollow emptiness settled in his chest at the thought. It was all too much.

Overcome with hopelessness, Nyota collapsed into the back of the truck, curling into himself.

His body shook with silent sobs as he felt the weight of everything—the destruction of his home, the loss of his parents, the uncertainty of what lay ahead.

His fear and sorrow overwhelmed him, and he couldn't stop himself from breaking down.