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 Plains of Leipira trembled beneath the march of Ixtiel's forces, a seemingly unstoppable wave of war machines, hover-platforms, and infantry charging toward Val'katl's trenches. The air hummed with the roar of Formicrons, the rhythmic pounding of war drums, and the distant, ever-present silence of the Defiance Vanguard above.

Inside their hidden positions, Val'katl's forces remained motionless, their Formicrons concealed among the battered earthworks, waiting, holding their breath.

Tlandar, his fingers gripping the controls of his superior Formicron, listened to the sound of approaching destruction.

Ixtiel was closing in.

Val'katl's voice came through the comms, steady and sharp.

"Hold the line. Wait for them to step forward."

Ixtiel believed this would be another war of endurance.

He did not realize he had already been pulled into the jaws of a trap.

Ixtiel's Overconfidence

From within his massive Formicron, Ixtiel watched the battlefield unfold, his grin widening as his forces advanced.

Val'katl had not engaged. Not yet.

"See?" Ixtiel's voice crackled over the comms to his generals. "He will not change. He fights as he always has—defensive, reactive, waiting to be overrun."

A chuckle from one of his lieutenants. "He should have surrendered."

Ixtiel smirked. "He will—soon enough."

But Maclar, standing in the command bunker, remained still. His crimson cape was unmoving, his steel mask reflecting nothing but cold calculation.

His voice was level. "And if he does not?"

Ixtiel laughed. "Then we crush him all the same."

The Counterstrike

The battlefield erupted.

From beneath the trenches, Val'katl's warriors surged forward in perfect synchronization, their Formicrons rising from concealment, weapons locked, charging toward Ixtiel's forces with overwhelming precision.

Tlandar's pilots engaged instantly, their Formicrons moving in perfect unison, circling, flanking, breaking apart Ixtiel's advancing troops.

Akashma's Formicron struck first, slicing through a squad of marauder hover-platforms with swift, precise cuts. Her warriors followed, carving through the first wave of enemy forces.

Val'katl's voice thundered across the comms.

"You are in my war now, Ixtiel."

Inside his Formicron, Ixtiel's smirk faded.

His forces were not pushing forward anymore.

They were being torn apart.

His hands gripped the controls tighter as he watched his frontline formations collapse, his warriors falling into disarray.

"They should be breaking! They should be retreating!"

Maclar, standing within the command bunker, watched silently.

Then, his voice cut through the comms.

And the sky exploded.

The Defiance Vanguard Uncloaks

A deep, resonant hum filled the battlefield. The air itself seemed to crackle.

Then—the Defiance Vanguard fired.

The first massive plasma cannon blast struck the earth, shattering the battlefield in an instant. A shockwave ripped through both armies, sending debris and fire skyward.

More cannon fire followed, raining down at random, indiscriminate in its destruction.

The sky rippled, distorted, and then—tore open.

The Defiance Vanguard uncloaked, its massive, metallic hull emerging from the rift of its own camouflage.

For the first time, Val'katl's warriors saw it in full.

A ship not of war, but of domination. A floating fortress. A titan that loomed over the battlefield, adjusting its position for optimal fire.

Tlandar's breath caught in his throat.

"By Astashica…"

A moment of silence spread across the battlefield—not of peace, but of realization.

The real war had just begun.