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 Stillness After the Storm

The Plains of Leipira burned in the distance, fire and smoke rising into the sky as the battle raged on. The echoes of explosions and energy blasts rolled across the marshlands, but here, away from the chaos, there was only silence.

Tlandar knelt beside Val'katl's broken body, his breath unsteady, his hands covered in blood and damp from the marsh beneath them.

The warlord lay still, his battle-worn armor shattered, his breath labored and slow. His Formicron was a ruined husk in the distance, a testament to the brutal duel he had fought and lost.

Above them, Akashma's Formicron hovered, her red cloak barely visible through the cockpit's reinforced glass. Her cannons remained hot, ready to fire at any sign of pursuit. She would not leave Tlandar unprotected.

But even she knew.

Val'katl would not rise again.

The Final Command

Tlandar pressed a hand against Val'katl's chest, feeling the faint, uneven rhythm of his heartbeat.

The warlord's eyes flickered open, his gaze weak but steady.

"You fought well today, Tlandar." His voice was quieter than ever before, but still held the weight of a commander.

Tlandar shook his head. "We're not done. I can still—"

Val'katl let out a weak, knowing chuckle. "You know that's not true."

His hand moved slowly, reaching for his side—where his twin blades rested.

Khalzir and Asharuk.

The indestructible swords of an Asemeri chieftain, carried since his exile from Planet Asemeri itself.

He lifted them—his strength fading, but his will unbroken.

"These blades… are yours now."

Tlandar's breath caught. He hesitated.

Slowly, his hands wrapped around the hilts, feeling their weight—not just the metal, but the power, the responsibility, the history.

Val'katl's gaze locked onto his, unwavering.

"These are more than weapons." He exhaled. "**They are indestructible. They are the legacy of Asemeri chieftains. They are symbols of leadership—of power, of authority."

Tlandar's hands trembled as the realization set in.

"You must take care of my people—the Val'katlans. They are yours now."

Tlandar opened his mouth to protest, but Val'katl cut him off.

"You will defeat Ixtiel. You will defeat Cosmus. And you will take New Asemeri."

His voice weakened, his breath slowing.

"You are Chieftain of Val'katl now."

Tlandar's jaw clenched, his heart pounding. "I am not—"

Val'katl's faint smirk returned, even in the face of death.

"Neither was I, once. Yet here we are."

Then, with one final breath, the warlord went still.

The Rebirth of a Warrior

Tlandar remained motionless, staring at Khalzir and Asharuk resting in his hands.

And then—a change.

A pulse of energy surged through him, a sensation unlike anything he had ever felt. A rush of strength, clarity, power.

His body felt lighter, yet stronger. His mind clearer, his purpose unshaken.

It was as if he had just been reborn.

For the first time, he did not resist his destiny.

No longer just a warrior. No longer just a survivor.

Tlandar was now Protector of Astashica.

The war still burned in the distance, but Tlandar no longer looked toward the battle.

He turned to Val'katl, reaching for a tattered blanket from the wreckage, draping it over his still form.

He pressed a hand to his chest, bowing his head.

"Farewell, friend. And great one."

Above them, Akashma's Formicron hovered still, her weapons trained on the horizon.

She watched as Tlandar stood, gripping Khalzir and Asharuk tightly.

The war was not over.

But now, it was Tlandar's war to finish.

The Rebirth of a Protector