Chương 1: Episode 0: PROLOGUE - 10,000 Years Ago (8000 B.C.E.)

Sand ripped across the Pyramids of Markilao like the whole desert woke up angry. The air burned with lunar beams and celestial bursts, every blast shaking the stacked stone blocks. Celestianites and Lunaranites were practically tearing the world apart, claws scraping armor, wings slicing wind, fangs flashing through the storm. Blightscaw ducked behind a shattered pillar, his white scales flaring with stress.

His golden eyes scanned the chaos while four Celestianites crouched behind him, gripping their glowing Divine Arrows. One shot each before the power fizzled. Miss, and they were done.

"Keep firing!" Blightscaw hissed. He popped up, loosed a silver-tipped arrow, and watched it punch straight into a Lunaranite's shoulder. Another Celestianite followed, their shot forcing the enemy back before a lunar beam scorched the pillar into a glowing, smoking crater. Blightscaw's claws brushed the Lost Key by his feet. Heavy. Ancient. Way too important for one Celestianite who definitely did not sign up for this level of stress.

"Where the hell am I even supposed to hide this thing?" he snarled.

"Why me?!"

"Because you're the one they can't take down," one teammate said steadily.

"You'll get it out. Our world needs you." Another loosed an arrow and yelled, voice cracking, "Your family needs you! Don't freeze up, Blight!" But Blightscaw barely heard them because something shifted. A presence. A pressure. The kind that makes your spine lock up like stone. A violet and black blur cut through the sandstorm, metal glinting. King Dreadixz. Twelve feet of Lunaranite warlord nightmare, decked out in spiked violet-and-black samurai armor, long blade humming with lunar energy.

His jagged half-mask hid everything except one eye, an eye that locked right onto Blightscaw like he'd already decided where to carve him. And in one sweeping strike, Dreadixz nearly split him clean in half. Blightscaw stumbled back, wings flaring in raw panic. CLANG. A golden blur slammed between them. King Vigilzante. Eleven feet of pure Celestial muscle wrapped in radiant gold armor, wings blazing like dying stars. His long sword met Dreadixz's in a crash that blew sand across the pyramid like a bomb went off.

The two titans pushed against each other, sparks of lunar violet and celestial gold spilling everywhere. Vigilzante's armor was already scorched. Dude was definitely getting cooked. But he refused to step back.

"Blightscaw!" he barked, voice gravel rough.

"Hide the Lost Key. Now." Blightscaw froze.

"B-But your majesty, you're gonna..." Vigilzante shoved Dreadixz back an inch, just enough to turn his face toward Blightscaw.

"That wasn't a suggestion," he growled.

"That's an order! GO!" The force in his voice punched the hesitation right out of Blightscaw. He snatched the Lost Key, wings snapping open as he bolted into the sky. Sand whipped his face, stinging his eyes, trying to rip him out of the air. Every beat felt like shoving through a brick wall, but he powered through it.

"Don't think! Just move!" he gritted out. Below, the war raged on. Dreadixz and Vigilzante's blades clashed again and again, each strike shaking the battlefield like thunder. But Blightscaw couldn't look back, not without losing the nerve he had left. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. The top of the largest pyramid finally came into view, its sandy blocks glowing under the violent gray sky. Blightscaw landed hard, claws skidding across stone.

He jammed the Lost Key into the square indentation carved into the peak. And the world exploded in light. White and gold swallowed everything. Shockwaves tore across the battlefield, knocking Lunaranites flat. The raging sandstorm collapsed inward, sucked into the burst of energy radiating from the pyramid and from Blightscaw himself. He lifted off the ground without flapping, suspended in the swirling magic as his scales lit up like molten gold. A ring of pure light blasted outward, slicing through the horizon.

When the glow finally faded, the indentation stood empty. The Lost Key was gone. And the Lunaranites were already retreating. Dark Don's Prologue (2 Years Ago From Present Time) I wasn't born here. That's the first thing people get wrong. I'm not Avangard-made. I didn't grow up under these moons, and I didn't learn war from Celestianites or Lunaranites. I come from another universe—the Dark Universe—from a planet called Night, where the atmosphere was thick as ash and the horizon never gave you light.

On Planet Night, you didn't dream. You trained.

"Again," my instructor would say, every time my strike came up slow. I never answered back. Talking wasted air. Thinking wasted time. Feeling got you killed. That's what they taught us. Then the Gatornites came and proved them right. Cities fell in minutes. The crust split open, and everything burned. I ran because staying meant dying, and dying meant nothing. The escape pod didn't have coordinates—just a launch toggle and an overload warning I ignored. I hit it anyway. It dropped me in Foreshade.

I crawled out of the wreckage with my armor sparking, my left wing jammed in the housing, and my vision swimming in smoke. Then a voice cut through the air.

"Okay. Either you're dead, or you're about to explain yourself." She was standing over me, holding a length of pipe like a club. Not terrified. Just curious. I told her my name was Don. She told me I was terrible at introductions. Her name was Silicia. She talked constantly—about the sector, about scavengers, about nothing at all. She laughed at things I couldn't wrap my head around, living like the world hadn't already tried to tear her down. I didn't say much back. I didn't have to. She stayed anyway.

For the first time in my life, I wasn't listening for an alarm. Then the Celestianites swept the district. They dragged us out into the street, threw us to the dirt, called me an illegal combatant, and called her collateral. I fought. I always fight. A rifle butt to the jaw ended that quick. They sent us to Moonforge. It was a labor camp carved straight into Avangard's first moon. Thousands of Lunaranites were dragged into those quarries, working until they dropped, while guards made sure no one asked questions.

Silicia tried to look away from the bodies. I forced myself to watch. I told her I'd get us out. I said it like a promise, even if I didn't have a plan yet. That's when Azor found us. He offered a way out—just for the two of us. One job. One weapon. One transport off-world. I knew it was dirty, but Silicia was shrinking day by day, and Moonforge was killing her one shift at a time. I took the deal.

The weapon was called the Lunar Surgicon, and once I had my hands on the core, I realized what it was: an engine designed to wipe out an entire sector. I turned and ran. Azor shot me out of the sky. I hit the lunar surface hard enough to shatter the plate armor on my back. The pain didn't stop me. I forced my wings open, locked my boots, and turned back toward the facility. I didn't care about the contract anymore. I didn't care about Azor. I tore Moonforge apart.

I breached the perimeter, shattered the containment lines, and left the camp burning behind me. Guards fled. Chains snapped. Prisoners scattered into the dust. Then I saw her. Azor had Silicia near the lower catwalks. He had a sidearm to her head, his hands shaking, panic leaking through his voice. He told me to drop the Surgicon. I set it on the floor. I told him to let her go. Silicia looked at me, tears cutting paths through the dust on her face.

She said my name like it was the only clean thing left in that place. She tried to tell me something—one last thing before the hammer fell. The gun went off. The blast that followed wasn't magic—it was every bit of power left in my suit overcharging at once. The pulse tore outward, disintegrating Azor and cracking the bedrock beneath the catwalks. When the dust settled, the silence was absolute. I knelt beside her in the low gravity, surrounded by shattered iron and floating debris. I tried to stop the bleeding.

I couldn't. She gave me something no instructor on Planet Night ever prepared me for. She showed me that life wasn't just surviving the next hit. I flew back down to Avangard after that, searching for miracles, answers, anything. I found none. I don't forget battles. I don't forget faces. And as long as the Celestianites hold this system, I'm going to make sure they remember mine.