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

A Battlefield Without Mercy

The Plains of Leipira were engulfed in war. Blades clashed, plasma fire streaked across the sky, and the earth itself trembled beneath the might of the Formicrons.

Above them, the Defiance Vanguard hovered ominously, its massive cannons shifting, preparing for another devastating strike. The sky was alive with green energy bursts, explosions rippling through both armies indiscriminately.

At the heart of the battlefield, Tlandar stood tall, his twin blades—Khalzir and Asharuk—gleaming under the fire-lit sky.

And he saw everything.

He saw Ixtiel's hesitation, his army disorganized and faltering, and he knew—this battle was his to control.

Ixtiel's Desperation

Inside his Formicron cockpit, Ixtiel gritted his teeth, his fingers tightening around the controls.

His warriors should not have rallied.

Val'katl was gone—so why were they still fighting like they had already won?

His mind raced, but the battlefield did not wait.

His forces looked to him for orders, waiting, their morale already shaken.

"Advance! Press forward! Cut them down!"

But there was no strategy behind the order.

His warriors charged without coordination, their movements reckless, blundering directly into the chaos of war.

They forgot to evade the Defiance Vanguard's bombardment.

Tlandar's Counterstrike

Tlandar watched it unfold like a grandmaster watching a failing opponent in a chess match.

Ixtiel had played the wrong move.

Now, it was his turn.

"Hold the line! Form into counter-strike formations! Force them toward their own bombardment!"

His voice rang through the comms, and his forces reacted instantly.

Salgaran pilots weaved in perfect synchronization, cutting off Ixtiel's advancing troops from their escape paths.

Val'katl's warriors used precision strikes, striking at the weak points of enemy formations.

Tlandar himself led the assault, slicing through Ixtiel's exposed flank, forcing his army into even worse positioning.

The Defiance Vanguard fired again, and this time, it was Ixtiel's own forces that suffered.

They were being bombarded by their own side.

The Breaking Point

Inside his Formicron, Ixtiel's breath hitched.

His forces should have overwhelmed Tlandar's.

But now—they were collapsing.

One by one, his warriors fell, caught in the Vanguard's blasts, cut down by Val'katl's counteroffensive.

His command network was breaking apart.

"Regroup! Regroup, you fools!" he barked into the comms, but it was too late.

His forces had lost confidence.

Tlandar had cornered him.

And Ixtiel was out of options.

The Fatal Mistake

Tlandar knew this was the moment.

This was the final mistake he had been waiting for.

Ixtiel, seeing his army crumbling, made one last, desperate decision.

"All remaining forces—charge! Full attack! Do not stop until they are crushed!"

But that was the worst move he could have made.

His warriors charged straight into a trap.

With one final coordinated strike, Tlandar's forces collapsed Ixtiel's lines.

The battle was lost.

And Ixtiel knew it.

The End of a Warlord's Reign

His Formicron, battered and broken, fell to one knee once more.

The battlefield went still for a moment.

Even the Defiance Vanguard seemed to pause its fire.

Tlandar stepped forward, his twin blades raised high.

His voice rang out over the Plains of Leipira.

"For Astashica! For Val'katl!"

The final battle cry was sounded.

And Ixtiel's reign of war was over.

The Fatal Blunder