Remembrance

The four-hour journey aboard the spaceship passed in a fleeting blur. The spaceship trembled lightly as its engines slowed, gently descending onto a makeshift landing pad in a small town. This was Klythra. The roar of the engines faded, giving way to the serene calm of a new planet. Lukas, seated in the co-pilot's chair, jolted awake as the soft morning sunlight streamed through the ship's viewport. That gentle light filtered through the canopy of trees, casting dappled patterns of sunlit patches on the ground. The sky was a pristine blue, adorned with a few fluffy white clouds drifting like sails on a vast, azure ocean. The air seemed to carry a sweet hint of honey and fresh grass, laced with the faint chirping of birds—a world apart from the acrid stench of engine oil and dust of Ormuth.

When the ship's hatch opened, a warm breeze rushed in, carrying the breath of Klythra's earth and sky. Lukas stepped down the ramp, his boots touching the soft, grass-covered ground. He paused, taking a deep breath, struck by the strange serenity of this place. All around, endless fields stretched out, dotted with vibrant wildflowers—red, purple, yellow—swaying gently in the wind. In the distance, a small village came into view, its thatched roofs made of Vionelle leaves, with wisps of smoke curling from stone chimneys. The lively chatter of the villagers echoed, blending with the cheerful chirping of birds from the treetops.

Owl, the woman in the owl mask, stepped down right after Lukas, her eyes glinting through the slits of her mask. "This is Klythra," she said, her voice a melodic blend of pride and warmth. "Not bad, is it, Fire Wolf?"

Lukas didn't reply immediately, his gaze sweeping over the scene before him. He had heard of Klythra—a small agricultural planet, nearly forgotten by Valeria, which might just be a blessing for this place, where people lived off farming and small-scale trade. But the tales he'd caught in the gritty taverns of Ormuth were vague, speaking only of a "peaceful" and "remote" world. No one mentioned the vibrant green of the fields, the gentle warmth of the sunlight, or the radiant smiles on the faces of the villagers strolling along the dirt path leading to the village. An elderly woman with silver hair, clutching a basket of plump red fruit, waved warmly at the newcomers. A group of children ran by, laughing and chasing a ball crafted from rolled tree bark.

 The people of Klythra, smaller in stature than the inhabitants of Zytherya, moved nimbly through the fields. They resembled humans but were distinguished by slightly elongated, subtly pointed ears peeking out from beneath their shimmering blonde hair, which gleamed like Klythra's sunlight. Their hair, whether on men or women, was always a shade of blonde—ranging from the pale gold of barley to the rich hue of honey—tied neatly or left to flow naturally, glinting under the sun. Their faces glowed with radiance, their clear eyes brimming with an innocence and hospitality rare in a galaxy rife with conflict and treacherous schemes.

This scene stirred something deep within Lukas, like an old wound suddenly throbbing. In his childhood, he had lived on a planet just as peaceful as this one—lush green fields, the laughter of children, and gentle sunlight. The sweet scent of fresh grass and honey from Klythra's fields filled Lukas's senses, soft yet sharp, pulling him back to memories he thought long buried. He stood still, his gaze lost in the distance, where golden fields of barley swayed in the cool breeze like rolling waves.

Lukas's Remembrance

He recalled Kahsc, his childhood home planet, where he was the son of a village chief. Back then, Kahsc was bathed in warm sunlight, its endless fields of barley and Xylara trees stretching to the horizon, punctuated by the echoing laughter of children from small villages. His family wasn't wealthy, but they had enough to eat and wear, living a simple, joyful life alongside honest, hardworking folk. Kahsc was renowned for its Lumen crystals, rare gems that shimmered with radiant light, believed to be the lifeblood of the planet. It was Lumen that kept the air pure, the soil fertile, and the hearts of its people at peace.

He thought life would always be that blissful, until Valeria arrived. Though Kahsc's government was frail, their pride and resolve to protect the Lumen drove them to reject Valeria's outrageous demands for tribute. Those greedy invaders sought to drain the planet's resources to fuel their cold, merciless, bloodthirsty war machine. The price was a brutal war. A colossal Valeria fleet, with tens of thousands of troops, descended upon Kahsc's skies like a ravenous swarm of locusts, blotting out the warm sunlight that once nurtured the land. In mere weeks, vibrant cities were reduced to ashes, millions of bodies littered the once-lush fields, and Lukas's village could not escape its doomed fate.

He still remembered that day, when the roar of warships tore through the sky. A Valeria battalion—Maniple, as they called it—stormed the village, wielding emotionless guns and cold, gleaming blades. They pillaged, raped, and slaughtered without mercy. His father, the village chief, stood defiantly to protect the people but was gunned down by a Valeria soldier right in the village square, his body bound to a stake as a grim display. Lukas, then just a thirteen-year-old boy, tremblingly seized a fallen soldier's gun. With tear-blurred eyes, he fired blindly, killing three enemies. The sound of gunfire mingled with his mother's screams before she, too, fell amidst the flames.

The Tribunus, commander of a thousand troops, fixed Lukas with a cold, calculating stare but didn't order his death. "This one's got guts," he said, his voice like gravel. Instead of killing him, they took Lukas to Valeria's capital, Orb Noblis. There, he was thrown into a brutal training facility, where children from conquered planets were brainwashed and forged into emotionless killing machines. Lukas nearly became one of them, rising as one of the top cadets at the Astralis Officer Academy. Until something happened…

(Back to reality)

Before Lukas could sink deeper into the painful memories, the silky voice of the Cat cut through, yanking him back to the present. "Fire Wolf, you look like you're falling in love with this place," he teased, winking playfully, his hand fluttering as if shooing an invisible insect. Lukas shot him a glacial glance but said nothing. He tightened his grip on the purple flower, the embers of Kahsc's memories still smoldering in his chest.

The Cat shrugged off Lukas's icy demeanor. "Come on, Fire Wolf, don't be so tense."

The Goat, stroking the fake beard dangling from his mask, chimed in with a hoarse, enthusiastic voice. "I say, instead of standing here staring at each other, why not grab something to eat? Morning in Klythra means fresh food! Crispy baked bread slathered with golden honey, paired with just-picked fruit… Oh, I swear, you'll wish you could stay here forever!" He laughed heartily, his eyes twinkling as if already picturing the feast.

The Badger snorted loudly, his broad shoulders shaking, his honey-badger mask wobbling. "Eat and drink! Are you that starved, you scruffy Goat?" he growled, his voice thick with irritation. "We're here to work, not to laze around like those blonde-haired farmers!" He jabbed a finger toward the Klythra locals swinging sickles through the fields, their blonde hair glinting under the sun.

The Owl, arms crossed, tilted her head and gave a slight nod. "Calm down, Badger. A quick breakfast won't derail our plans. Joren's not going anywhere, and I know he'll offer us food anyway." She turned to Lukas, her eyes behind the owl mask carrying a hint of challenge. "Fire Wolf, how about some bread? I swear it's insanely good."

Lukas's lips twitched into a faint smirk, his gaze still cool but no longer resistant. He let the purple flower slip from his hand, watching it drift softly to the grass. "The Goat's talk is making my stomach rumble," he said. "Might as well. I'm starting to like this place." He followed the group, trying to ignore the sweet scent of Klythra and the clear laughter of children running by, but deep inside, the tranquility of this place cut like a knife, reopening old wounds.