JVMenjivar

Astashica: Eternal Starborn Dominion

"Listen well, child of the twin suns. The land speaks, the winds whisper, and the rivers carry old songs. But there is one voice that does not sing, one truth that sleeps beneath your feet. The world you stand upon is not what you believe it to be."

The Xothek Galaxy is gone, consumed by its own hunger for power. The Asemeri once shaped the stars, bending light and void to their will. Their greatest creation, the Formicrons, built empires that stood for millennia.  

But Xothek fell—not to time, nor to gods, but to its own arrogance.  

The Azurevat fire erased them. Cities vanished. Kingdoms dissolved into the abyss. And the last Asemeri fled aboard the Defiance Vanguard, a warship of lost power, its runes still pulsing with ancient knowledge. They sought refuge. They found Astashica.  

A world of twin suns. A world veiled in Light. A world that does not belong to them.  

For three hundred cycles, the Asemeri ruled. They carved their names into the mountains, built their towers over rivers, but Astashica is awake. It watches. It remembers.  

Now, the shadow returns.  

Cosmus has returned. The exile. The usurper. The last remnant of a dead empire. His fleet blackens the sky. His armies rise from the abyss. And in his grasp? The final Azurevat missile—the fire that once shattered the heavens.  

And in the path of destruction, one man stands.  

Tlandar. Son of two worlds. A man of soil and harvest. A man who should have lived his days in peace.  

But war does not ask who you wish to be. It demands who you must become.  

Flee, and the twin suns will set forever.  
Stand, and awaken the Light once more.  

He takes the blade. He spills the blood. He walks the path of no return.  

The Defiance Vanguard looms overhead.  
The Azurevat fire waits in silence.  
The Formicrons stir beneath the sands.  
The ancient Asemeri cores pulse in the dark.  

But beneath it all—beneath the ruins, beneath the rivers, beneath the very bones of this world—there is something older than the Asemeri.  

Something forgotten.  
Something that was never meant to wake.  

This is not a war for land. This is not a war for power.  

This is a war for the right to exist.  

And so I ask, child of the twin suns—will you fight for the Light, or will you let the darkness take it?"

ASTASHICA: Eternal Starborn Dominion

The Return to His Forces

Tlandar stepped out of Boulderkeep's War Planning Room, the conversation with Chieftain Val'katl still echoing in his mind. The alliance was set. The battle for Ixtiel's stronghold was taking shape. But before war came, his warriors needed to be ready.

He moved swiftly through the fortress corridors, past armored warriors preparing for the inevitable clash, past engineers maintaining Formicrons, and past Val'katl's battle tacticians who were locked in discussions about troop movements and defense lines. The stone walls of Boulderkeep were alive with the presence of warriors, each one carrying the weight of war upon their shoulders.

At last, he emerged onto the eastern platform, where his two hundred Salgaran warriors were stationed.

Salgaran Warriors at Work

Tlandar had expected drills, formations, and silent waiting.

Instead, he found his warriors immersed in a complex, multi-layered training regimen—each pilot engaged in an unorthodox yet calculated activity.

Some were seated around a series of holographic battle simulations, their fingers tracing out formations and synchronized attack patterns, refining their ability to anticipate and react in real-time.

Others stood beside their Formicrons, using gesture-based training interfaces to run synchronized combat maneuvers—preparing to integrate their neural feedback systems with their machines.

A group of high-speed knife throwers had formed a circular ring, engaging in precision-based drills where they launched high-tech daggers at tiny floating energy targets that flickered and shifted unpredictably.

And at the farthest end of the platform, several warriors were sparring in hand-to-hand combat, using fluid movements, circular redirections, and counter techniques that blended Salgaran military arts with Val'katlan aggression.

This was not idle waiting.

This was preparation.

Even at rest, the warriors of Salgar sharpened their minds and bodies.

The Arrival of Their Commander

The moment Tlandar stepped onto the platform, his warriors noticed.

Conversations stilled. Simulations paused. The knife throwers lowered their arms, the holographic interfaces flickered off, and the sparring matches came to a halt.

They turned as one, their armored forms standing tall, their postures straightening.

And then, without needing a command, they moved into formation.

This was no mere show of discipline.

This was recognition.

Tlandar was their leader.

He walked forward, scanning their faces. Some looked at him with quiet confidence, others with silent intensity, but none showed doubt.

Tlandar let the moment linger, then spoke.

"The battle approaches." His voice was calm, but carried the weight of command. "We will fight alongside Val'katl's warriors. We will prove ourselves on the battlefield."

Tlandar turned, glancing toward the horizon where the war awaited.

They had come to change the fate of Astashica.

And soon, they would.

The Warriors Await