I Never Forget: The Day the Sky Fell

March 13, 2109.

It was a day that would forever haunt the memories of those who survived.

It began as an ordinary day, the sun shining brightly over cities bustling with life. Laughter echoed from playgrounds, and the aroma of fresh coffee wafted through the streets as people hurried to their daily routines. But as noon approached, an unsettling stillness settled over the landscape, as if the world itself was holding its breath. An ominous shadow crept across the skyline, darkening the streets and sending a wave of dread through the hearts of millions.

"What is that???" a grandfather exclaimed, his voice trembling as he peered up from his lawn, squinting against the harsh sunlight. His weathered hands gripped the fence, knuckles white with tension. The shadow loomed larger, swallowing the light and casting an eerie pall over the neighborhood.

"…"

"Oh Lord…" uttered a middle-aged man, his voice barely above a whisper. He stood up from his chair, the newspaper slipping from his fingers as he slowly took off his glasses. He approached the window of his high-rise office, heart pounding in his chest. The view that greeted him was people pointing above, their faces twisted in confusion and fear. He felt a chill run down his spine as he gazed at the darkened sky, a sense of foreboding washing over him.

"…"

"New government project, perhaps?" a young man suggested, his voice shaky as he stood in the street, holding his girlfriend's hand tightly. His mouth hung open in disbelief, eyes glued to the ominous shape above, and he struggled to find words to ease the growing panic.

"Are you sure they can hide something that big from the media?" the girlfriend replied, her voice laced with anxiety. She fidgeted nervously, glancing left and right as the tension in the crowd escalated. The honks from the car nearby faded into silence, replaced by the heavy weight of uncertainty. Her heart raced as she scanned the faces of the bystanders, each one reflecting the same unease that gripped her.

"…"

The kids who had been playing outside their house abruptly stopped their activity, their laughter replaced by wide-eyed stares. They looked up, mouths agape, as the shadow loomed overhead, blotting out the sun and casting an unnatural twilight over the world. The air grew thick with apprehension, and the once vibrant streets felt suffocated by an unseen dread.

As the shadow continued to expand, a low rumble echoed through the air, vibrating in their chests. It was a sound that seemed to resonate from the very depths of the earth, a harbinger of something terrible approaching. The sky, once a canvas of blue, now felt like a shroud, wrapping the city in a cloak of impending doom.

"What's happening?" a small voice broke the silence, a child's innocent question that hung in the air, unanswered. The adults around them exchanged worried glances, their minds racing with possibilities, each one darker than the last.

* * *

I remembered it clearly as if it had happened yesterday. Above us loomed a colossal spaceship, a behemoth that defied all reason. It was no mere plane; it was a monstrous craft, so vast that it blotted out the sun, casting the world into an unnatural twilight. Its surface shimmered with an iridescent sheen, a patchwork of metallic panels that glinted ominously in the dim light.

The ship was adorned with intricate designs and pulsating lights that danced across its hull, hinting at the advanced technology that lay within. It was a sight that belonged in the realm of science fiction, yet here it was.

As we stood frozen, the ship's belly opened, and from its depths emerged a swarm of flying aliens. They descended like a dark cloud, their wings glistening in the dim light, each one encased in a suit of shimmering black metal armor that reflected the chaos below. They resembled giant praying mantises, their elongated bodies and razor-sharp limbs poised specifically for destruction. Panic erupted in the streets as the first screams pierced the air, a cacophony of terror that echoed through the city.

These creatures, with their cold, calculating eyes, showed no mercy. They swooped down upon us, their movements swift and precise, unleashing a wave of violence that left no one standing. Buildings crumbled under the weight of their assault, and the once-bustling streets became a battleground soaked in blood and flesh.

It was a massacre, a relentless onslaught that spread across the globe – Africa, Antarctica, Asia, Australia, Europe, North America, and South America – every corner of the Earth fell victim to their unknown purpose and wrath.

Countless lives were extinguished in mere moments, families torn apart, dreams shattered.

I was among the fortunate few who managed to escape the initial wave of destruction. My name was Nathaniel, one of the survivors who darted from bunker to bunker, navigating the ruins of a city that had once thrived with life. The underground sewers became our refuge, a dark and damp sanctuary where the few of us clung to the hope of survival.

For two long weeks, we evaded the relentless hunt, scavenging for food and water while still haunted by the memories of those we had lost. Each day was a battle against despair, a struggle to remain hidden from the eyes of these unknown invaders. But even then, our numbers dwindled by the day, until only ten of us were left, clinging to the bitter hope of survival.

As the days turned into nights, the reality of our situation became increasingly clear to us. The world above was a graveyard. The echoes of laughter and joy had been replaced by silence, a haunting reminder of what once was. I could feel the weight of despair closing in around me, the knowledge that my end was inevitable too.

And then, on the twenty-fifth day since the first attack, it came. The ground trembled as the aliens returned, their metallic wings slicing through the air with a chilling hum. We knew there was nowhere left to hide. All of us emerged from the shadows, where we were met with the sight of the city, now a desolate wasteland, the sky darkened by the looming spaceship above.

The last remnants of humanity stood together, united in our final moments, facing the inescapable death.

But just as the end threatened to consume us, something extraordinary happened. A figure fell from the sky, crashing down with a force that shook the ground. In an instant, he was upon the aliens, his fists striking with a power that shattered their armor like glass, his mysterious blue glowing sword slicing through the alien armor, splashing green blood all around.

Dust and debris exploded around him, swirling in the air as he fought with a ferocity we had never seen before. Blurry figures danced in the haze, but I could see enough to know that this man had a force no human could ever hope to achieve, dispatching the alien invaders with brutal efficiency.

As the dust began to settle, I caught my first clear glimpse of him. He was a muscular human clad in a sleek black armored suit, his helmet gleaming ominously. With a swift motion of his left hand, he touched the side of his helmet, and it opened with a hiss of shifting gears. What was revealed before our eyes was a man with a beard, steady temperament, and solemn eyes that seemed to hold the weight of true responsibility amidst death, obscurity, and hopelessness.

"Are you all okay?" his deep, gruff voice echoed, cutting through the silence that had enveloped us. At that moment, I realized I was no longer alone. Later, I found out I was actually in the presence of the First Champion, a figure of legend among the remnants of humanity.

We then discovered the real truth that was laid bare to us when we were saved. Seventy-nine years before the invasion, whispers had circulated among the world's leaders about an impending threat. In haste, they had retreated to underground facilities, preparing for the worst. Experiments were conducted, weapons forged, and strategies devised to combat the alien menace known as the Aelor.

It all started as a secret message from an unknown source that had warned them of an advanced civilization intent on conquering Earth. And so, they had labored in the shadows, creating the Champion – super soldiers born from genetic modification, imbued with extraordinary powers.

So now it led to the current situation. As the carcasses of the fallen aliens piled up, the scientists advanced their research, developing serums that harnessed the very essence of the Aelor's biology.

I had become one of these Champions, though my physical aptitude was weakened due to injuries I had sustained in my spinal cord in the past. This somehow resulted in the serum injected into me having a below-average integration percentage. However, the serum managed to heal all of my injuries and made me stronger than the average soldier.

In the end, I was not destined to become one of the Frontline Division or Special Operative; instead, I became a Medic, tending to the injured, or a Carrier, bringing supplies and ammunition to those who fought.

Day by day, I witnessed the sacrifices of my fellow Champions, their bravery igniting a flicker of hope in these damned ages - that I too, one day, hoped to sacrifice myself for humanity and the future of Earth. Maybe for someone precious too.

Subsequently, after years of grueling effort and sacrifice, we finally managed to bring down one of the alien spaceships. From its wreckage, we retrieved samples – designs, technology, and the source of its power core. This knowledge allowed us to create the first-generation suits and armor, enhancing our capabilities in the fight against the Aelor.

Just as I had finished tending to a wounded soldier, I walked outside the temporary camp we had hastily built. I looked over the horizon, where lay the corpses of the Aelor and the many soldiers who had fallen against the enemy. I clenched my fist, feeling a renewed determination to fight on.

"This is not over yet…" I muttered under my breath.

Suddenly, from the side, I saw a Champion wielding the Aegis Blade floating close and landing beside me. From the figure's armor and the symbol etched on her chest, I recognized her as a female Champion, belonging to the Psych-operative, Psychic Unit. I knew exactly who she was – Aina, a survivor from the same region as me when the First Champion had saved us.

Aina was a friend with whom I shared a complicated relationship. We could have been called friends, acquaintances, girlfriends, friends with benefits, or even strangers.

It was strange, wasn't it? In short, the two of us had been extremely busy since we were saved, especially after proving compatible with the serum. Since then, we had been under constant stress, with lessons that filled our time and countless training sessions preparing us for the frontline fights against the Aelor.

Stepping closer, her plasma-infused blade retracted, leaving only the middle part of the sword. The hilt retracted, turned, and attached to the middle part, transforming it into a rapier-like weapon. She then hung it at her waist. Placing both hands on the sides of her helmet with its black-tinted glass, I heard a shifting gear as she removed it, revealing her warm-beige skin tone, pink heart-shaped lips, large brown eyes, and shoulder-length black hair tied to the back.

Following suit, I placed my hands on my helmet and commanded my AI to release my head armor. Resting it on the side of my head, I turned my gaze back to the front and took a deep breath of the unfamiliar air that filled my lungs – the smoky, distinct aroma of gunpowder and burned flesh. There was also a metallic rust smell from human blood and the acidic, moldy scent of the greenish blood of the Aelor Mantis – that was what we called them for these species of what we determined as the warrior of the Aelor.

Knitting my eyebrows, I glanced sideways and found Aina still beside me.

"I'm sorry if I sound rude, but if I may ask, lieutenant, have you reported to your captain?" I asked her.

"It's too late to call me lieutenant now when you don't even salute when you see me," she replied, shoulder to shoulder, her eyes fixed on the scene before us.

"But you are the one who ordered me to do that when no one is around," I countered, speaking more casually than I should have, considering she was one of my many superiors. After all, she was one of the few I could trust and be comfortable with.

"Stop being so damn rigid, will you?" Aina sighed, rolling her eyes as she turned to face me. I met her gaze, exchanging muted, complex glances. There was much to be said, but both of us were aware of our troubled past. Such a relationship was something we avoided, even amidst the death and misery surrounding us – the scar remained inside of us.

"I already heard about it," Aina resumed.

"Heard about what?" I tilted my head, feigning confusion as I had always done.

"Stop faking it. You refused the position of Colonel, overseeing our whole district movement. That was three times higher than my current position, just below a General. Why did you do that?" she complained.

After a few seconds, I turned my gaze away from her and shrugged. "I don't like it…"

"Hah, that's it?" Her eyes twitched, bewildered by my brief, nonchalant answer. Aina continued, "Don't tell me this is all about dying on the frontline and whatnot. About being a real man and responsibility or whatever."

I turned back to her, my eyes reflecting unspoken conviction. Seeing that, Aina immediately understood. Flattening her lips, she said, "Seriously???"

"It's worth it, Aina. I might be talented in tactical decisions, but I don't want to stay back at the base while others sacrifice their lives on the frontline. Even as a medic, I can still help them in my own way, maybe even kill a few of those bastard Aelors. Besides, I'm pretty sure many more talented individuals can do the job of being a tactician. It doesn't have to be me…"

"Like who?" she asked, lifting one eyebrow – a gesture I knew well, signifying her silent disagreement with my opinion.

"Like General Robert or Sir Dallen," I replied.

"But no one has the same bearing and respect as you among the soldiers and even the fellow Champions. You know you're different, right? Your vision is so unique that even General Robert says so. Why do you always…" she sighed in defeat, bewildered by my reasoning.

I remained silent as Aina continued. "You're the one who resolved the conflict at headquarters, dealt with those greedy pigs directly, and led us to victory when our platoon almost wiped out in Paris. You convinced the Supreme Commander to follow your plan to attack their spaceship directly, and that's how we got these new suits, weapons, energy sources, and my Psych Amplifier. You led us to victory, Nath. No one is like you. And I'm sure everyone feels the same way. It's fine if we die and sacrifice ourselves following your plan. It's worth it…"

"No, it's not worth it," I suddenly cut her off, my fists clenched tightly and my eyes reddening. The veins on my forehead surely surfaced by now. I didn't know where this rage came from, but hearing her talk about her own death so insouciantly overwhelmed me in anger. "There are times when I failed too."

"But there's always failure in everything, and your plan is always the most feasible one among the other. Above all, we're fighting an unknown race from a different galaxy with high-tech weapons and armor. It's a wonder we've even managed to win against them," she insisted.

"It's you I'm worried about."

"Huh?"

"I'm selfish. I don't deserve that recognition. I don't deserve that position. All I care about is that you are safe. Every plan I considered, every scenario I calculated, and every scheme and distraction I organized, was based on one single objective: to make sure you survive, even if it means sacrificing the whole troop," I finally confessed. I had carefully hidden the facts from her. Since that day, she had become everything to me – my path, my purpose, my whole meaning of existence. I was ready to sacrifice anything for her, even my life. My purpose was no longer to survive.

It was all about her.

Only her.

Her mouth hung open in disbelief as she stared into my eyes. I could somewhat guess what she was feeling at that moment. She must have felt uncertain, incredulous, conflicted, and utterly incongruous.

The discrepancy between her expectations of my whole personification and the harsh truth must have hurt her deeply. But could I say anything about it? Absolutely not. I was no hero, after all. All I had done was act out of my own selfish goals and proclivities. I was no better than those people from that day – those who wanted to suppress and take advantage of the chaos to gain profit amidst the turbulence back at headquarters, even playing politics while the legion struggled to save humanity from extinction. I was no different from them.

A hypocrite, just with different values.

Just as I held my breath, bracing myself for Aina to turn her back on me in disappointment and discontent, what I got instead was a blush from Aina, who swiftly hugged me tightly. I could even feel my armor creaking under the force of her strength, and I felt slightly suffocated. While I was stronger than an ordinary soldier in the legion, and Aina was a Psychic, the strength difference between a failed Champion and a true Champion was significant. She overwhelmed me in every regard when it came to muscle density and strength.

As she eased her arms and slowly released the hug from my ribs, Aina looked up to meet my gaze. "I don't know what to say or how to feel about this, but to be honest, for me, this is the most romantic way you've ever courted me so far."

"I'm not kidding, alright? And I don't mean to court…"

My lips were suddenly sealed by her finger as she looked intently into my eyes, her expression a mix of seriousness and mischief.

"It doesn't matter. What matters is that you indeed care about me. But you seem to forget our vow when we were first injected with the serum: to die for the greater cause of humanity."

"It's just words! It represents nothing of our desires and wishes," I argued, feeling a bit defensive.

Aina lifted both of her hands and stepped back, indicating that she had given up on that topic. "Alright, big guy, you win. So, in short, you do it all for me, huh?"

"… … I… yeah, it's indeed my reason," I replied, lowering my head and avoiding her gaze. I tried to think of other reasons for my actions, but nothing came to mind. So, I relented and locked my eyes onto hers, admitting to such ridiculous reasoning for all the plans I had made so far.

Keeping our silence, Aina abruptly opened her mouth. "You are a terrible liar, you know that."

"… What do you mean?" Though that was what I asked back, a lump formed in my throat. I knew exactly what she meant, but it was still hard for me to concede to my own true nature. I hate it, for all my suffering in the past stems from it.

Without waiting for a response, she approached me again, rolling her eyes dramatically. In a swift motion, she placed her hands on my shoulders. With her psychic power, she made herself float to my height – as she leaned in closer, her lips almost brushing against mine.

Just as we were about to close the distance, our eyes shut in anticipation, a sudden cough from the side startled both of us, and we quickly separated, creating a comical distance between us.

Our muscles tightened, and we stood straight, like two soldiers caught in a compromising position. To our surprise, it was the First Champion, Sir Gillihan, who stood behind us without either of us being aware of his presence. I wondered how long he had been there, but honestly, I couldn't care less if he had heard what I said beforehand.

It didn't matter to me anyway, since I was pretty sure that the Supreme Commander and many Generals, including Sir Gillihan – who was also a General – already knew about my intention and feelings based on how I always drew up the many plans for our attacks, with Aina who always positioned at the very center of the formation and core deployment, ensuring her safety above all else. The others, in my mind and the whole angle, were just cannon fodder, serving as assurance in case something went awry during the mission – including me, who was always at arm's length, ready on the frontline to tend to the wounded and create distractions if necessary to save Aina.

If they couldn't even draw that conclusion, they might as well be called idiots. Both of us saluted at his presence, then stood straight, awaiting orders.

"Sir…" we called out simultaneously, our voices echoing in the awkward silence.

"At ease, soldiers. Cough, I'm sorry if I disturbed your two little alone time, but young lady, your captain seems to be looking for you," Sir Gillihan said, turning to Aina. There was a well-hidden smile forming beneath his well-groomed beard as he eyed me occasionally. Who knew what that smile really meant? But after being exposed to his presence for so long at the base and knowing what kind of person Sir Gillihan was, it gave me a slight headache thinking about what was going to happen among the troops from now on when I'm there.

In my honest, brief opinion, he was a busybody grandpa. Once he liked someone, he either treated you as a comrade if your age was close to his – which was rare and could be counted on one hand since there were hardly any among the Ironclad Legion and the whole world who managed to be compatible with the serum at his age – he was ninety years old when he volunteered to be one of the test subjects and was successful wonderfully at the level of integration percentage.

Or he would treat you like his own grandson, constantly nagging you. Fortunate and unfortunate enough, I was the latter kind.

"Ah yes. I'll go first, Sir," Aina saluted once again, then walked closer to me, whispering, "I'll go first. I'll find you in your camp. Don't run away."

"Go ahead…" Sir Gillihan nodded, allowing Aina to leave us.

Just as she disappeared from our field of vision, Sir Gillihan smiled broadly, "Oho! I guess the rumor about little Nath is true after all."

He then clasped my shoulder, and I winced in pain. I had never once used what Sir Gillihan believed to be a not-so-hard tap on my shoulder or back as a form of greeting. If I were a normal human, I figured I would have been thrown out by now, face-planted on the ground, or worse, ended up with broken bones from his overwhelming strength alone. Despite all my silent complaints and displeasure, Sir Gillihan was always a respectable figure in my heart. I secretly admired him.

It had always been that way… and I was pretty sure I was going to need an ice pack too after this encounter.

* * *

And that day happened. It became a terrible nightmare for all of us. We lost a man who had always been our symbol against the Aelor. He was the man who had fought against insurmountable odds and somehow managed to stay alive, even emerging miraculously as the sole victor in battles that seemed unwinnable.

I lost him. We lost him.

Sir Gillihan died while valiantly holding back countless Aelor. He sacrificed himself so that we could safely retreat, and it was a devastating blow to all of us. It struck at the very core of our confidence and shattered our whole mental fortitude.

Like flipping the same coin, we tasted defeat overwhelmingly, losing one of our headquarters and our first hero in the process. That day with Aina had been the last time I had a long conversation and even joked around with Sir Gillihan.

I didn't know how to process his sacrifice. But we still needed to move on. There was an unending battle out there, and we were still not on the losing side yet.

Or so I thought. I was wrong.

Just the following year after the death of Sir Gillihan, I lost her.

I lost Aina too.

Despite all of my efforts to keep her safe, I lost her as well. That day felt like my entire existence had lost all meaning. It was as if the very air had been sucked from my lungs, making it hard to breathe. My heart kept beating erratically, a frantic drum echoing relentlessly.

I hallucinated that I was sent back to the past, reliving the agony of my injuries back then, which sometimes made me shiver in pain and end up convulsing on the floor. The difference was that – I felt like I had lost all my strength to even stand. I felt weak, as the pain that ceaselessly assaulted my heart became unbearable by the ticks of the clock.

But I needed to stay strong. I was a man, after all. No matter what, I stood there, clenching my fists as tightly as possible until they bled heavily, trying to numb the misery.

I didn't remember exactly how I managed to return to my room. One thing was for sure: the sadness I felt that day was clouded only by a raging anger. A fit of overwhelming fury that threatened to burn away all of my reason. But I needed to calm down. I needed to breathe and think through it all, lest I lose my sanity too amidst this whole situation.

I did all of that, not for humanity. Not for myself. Not for my sense of defeat. Not for Sir Gillihan nor even for Aina. It was solely for revenge. I needed to make those Aelor bastards pay the price. I couldn't die yet. Foolishly throwing away my life wasn't an answer. So, I dedicated myself to bringing an end to the enemy. I took on the mantle as the tactician of the Iron Legion. From a small leader of the tactical division, I climbed my way up the ranks.

A Captain to a Major. To a Colonel and then a General. Victory after victory, I led the legion down to the only clear path we paved – through countless sacrifices and the deaths of comrades. I strove toward the sole ambition, purpose, and end of our struggle and battle. And that was the conquest of our nemesis – the true, crushing defeat of the Aelor, the invading army.

I stood resolutely at the top of a cliff, surveying the Champions and Soldiers who lined up in front of me, all of whom had just managed to secure another victory under my leadership.

Fifteen years after Aina's death, I was promoted to the highest command of the entire Earth army. I was responsible for the overall strategy, command, and coordination of all units. I was the one who held one of the highest positions under one banner against the Aelor: The Ironclad Legion.

I was to be the Supreme Commander.

But even then, I knew. We all knew that the battle was far from over. We would rise from the ashes, united in our quest to reclaim our world.

For humanity? No.

For Sir Gillihan? No.

I didn't know about others – but for me, this time – it was all for Aina's sake. For our promise. With me at the helm, we would rise, we would fight, and we would reclaim our home, no matter what.

* * *

After more than a hundred years, we did it. We finally did it.

The air was thick with the scent of victory, the cheers of humanity ringing out like a triumphant anthem. We had done the impossible; we had driven the Aelor back to the void from which they came. The remnants of our once-broken world began to heal, and for a fleeting moment, hope blossomed in our hearts.

We celebrated, believing we had turned the tide against the nightfall that had threatened to consume us all.

But that celebration was short-lived at the end. Just as we began to breathe easy, the sky darkened once more. The Aelor returned, but this time, they were different – new creatures, more advanced armor, and weaponry – armed with technology that surpassed anything we had ever encountered. They descended upon us like a storm, their weapons glinting with a malevolent light, and we were woefully unprepared for the onslaught that followed.

I fought alongside my comrades, but it was futile.

The aliens were stronger, faster, and more ruthless than before. I could feel the tide of battle shifting, the weight of despair pressing down on us like a leaden shroud. As I fought, I saw my subordinates, my comrades – one by one slain, their screams echoing in my ears. I fought with everything I had, but it never was enough.

Then it happened.

I felt a sharp pain pierce through my side, a long sword thrust deep into my flesh and heart. Time slowed as I looked down, the realization dawning on me that this was it – my end was numbered in seconds. I had believed we could win, that we could reclaim our world, but it was all a cruel joke. We had lost. I had lost everything.

Aina. My heart shattered at the thought of her.

The world around me slowly faded in a blur, the sounds of battle drowned out by the silence of my impending doom. The last thing I saw was a brilliant blue light descending from the sky, crashing down toward our main base – the sign of our end – a harbinger of destruction.

And then, I was shrouded only by darkness. Meanwhile, inside all of this, lying freely as if there was no gravity – in an unforgettable moment, I faintly caught a voice whispering to me in my sleep that said, "It's not over yet, is it, Supreme Commander?"

When I opened my eyes again, I was not in the ruins of our last stand. I was back. Back in my young body, at twenty-one years old, in District A32.

* * *