In the infinite darkness of the Nebula Strand galaxy, the light of the stars seems to fade. On Valeria Prime, the central planet of the Valeria Republic, skyscrapers hover among shimmering clouds, their glass surfaces reflecting the glow of massive energy reactors buried deep within the earth. The Republic's capital city, Urbs Solis, stands as a symbol of power and prosperity, hailed as the jewel of the Nebula Strand.
Beneath the radiant splendor of Urbs Solis lies a web of control spanning the galaxy—not just through fleets or legions, but through sophisticated political manipulation. For decades, the Valeria Republic has established dozens of puppet regimes on conquered planets. Under the guise of "self-governance," these regimes are propped up by local aristocrats or power-hungry opportunists, sworn to absolute loyalty to the Solar Citadel. In return, they retain a sliver of profit, while resources, labor, and allegiance flow unceasingly to Valeria. For the people, it is a blood-soaked compromise. For Valeria, it is a network of control that spills little blood but proves more effective than any armada.
These puppet governments, scattered across planets like Thaloryn, Eryndor, and the southern fringes of Zythera, have stifled any seeds of rebellion before they can sprout. When locals turn against each other, Valeria need not intervene—they simply tally the resources pouring in and tighten the reins.
The Emperor of the Republic, Titus Aurelian, dubbed the Black Sun, commands an army clad in jet-black uniforms, with officers and commanders donning stern yet terrifying attire that strikes fear into the hearts of the subjugated. From his throne in the Solar Citadel, Titus surveys his senators and generals standing rigidly in the palace. Draped in a crimson cloak embroidered with a blazing sun and crowned with a rare black diamond from the galaxy's depths, he is the embodiment of absolute power.
Today, the atmosphere in the imperial court is heavier than usual. An urgent report has arrived from Kharis, a desert-covered planet on the galaxy's edge: a Republic tax collection fleet was ambushed by the Nomad Kha tribe. The entire 1,000-strong contingent from the 1st Regiment of the Astralis Legion, along with their fleet, was caught off guard while stationed for the annual tax collection. The Republic's resource mining operation was also fiercely attacked, resulting in a complete loss of control over the planet's ore mines. Centurion Commander Macrelis, a general leading 1,000 troops, was captured and brutally killed, his head impaled on a stake at the planet's center, with his remains divided among the tribal chiefs as a humiliating affront to the Republic. This marks the first major challenge to the Republic from the Astralis region since a century ago, when Titus Aurelian's grandfather ruthlessly quelled their defiance, forcing them into submission.
The Senate is in an uproar.
"They must have had help. Those backward savages couldn't possibly have the weaponry to attack our advanced fleet!" one senator exclaims.
"They're nothing but vermin. Spared from extinction last time by the Emperor's mercy, and still they refuse to obey!" roars General Cassian Varo, Supreme Commander of the Astralis Legion. Slamming his fist on the marble table, he fumes, "I propose we deploy my entire fleet and raze that planet to the ground. I swear I'll capture those tribal chiefs and make them suffer before they answer to Macrelis in the afterlife!"
Titus raises an eyebrow, his gold-ringed finger tapping rhythmically on the armrest of his gilded throne. "Raze Kharis? No, Cassian. I want them to kneel before me in terror, not to be annihilated. Think—if we wipe them out, won't other tribes rise up in defiance? A thousand lives for a thousand lives. That is the rule."
Thus, the Astralis Legion is ordered to mobilize 5,000 troops to engage in combat on Kharis, adhering to the principle of "a thousand for a thousand."
Meanwhile, on Zythera, where endless jungles stretch beneath a deep azure sky, the Free Peoples' Alliance convenes in secret within a cave hidden beneath towering canopies. Slyvara, leader of the Zytheryan revolutionary forces, stands among representatives of other leaders: the sun-scorched warriors of the Nomad Kha, the prophetic Thalor from the icy planet Thaloryn, and a handful of defectors from the tech-savvy Mechanis tribe of Eryndor.
Slyvara raised a crystal shard inscribed with data, obtained from a spy she had embedded within the Valeria Republic. Her voice echoed through the cave: "According to intelligence from inside Valeria, Titus Aurelian will not forgive the attack on their fleet, esteemed Nomad Kha leader. Your actions have brought calamity upon the other tribes. Why didn't you follow the Free Peoples' Alliance's original plan?"
Kael Dravus, the revolutionary leader of the Nomad Kha, stood, his bio-sword gleaming in his hand, his voice defiant: "Your plan, Slyvara? To let them strangle Kharis while we wait? That's not your planet—you wouldn't understand. The Alliance didn't help us, so the Nomad Kha had to protect ourselves!"
Erynn, the Thaloryn prophet, spoke coldly, her piercing gaze fixed on Kael: "Protect yourselves? Are you mad? Have they killed anyone yet? Or have you thrust us all under the blade of the Astralis Legion? Your barbaric tribe acted without warning, dragging us all into your mess. Valeria's patrols have tightened around our frozen oceans because of your foolish actions. They've even seized the trade routes we fought so hard to secure through political struggle. Well done."
Kael's face flushed with rage, his grip tightening on the bio-sword, its red glow illuminating his scarred, wild features. "Don't lecture me on morality! Those trade routes you claim were won through 'political struggle'—you sold information about our rare ores to the Republic for scraps of profit. And now you dare criticize us? Kharis is dying a slow death because of you!"
Vox-7, a revolutionary general from Eryndor, cut through the argument with a metallic, emotionless voice: "Both of you, calm down. No one here is innocent. The Nomad Kha's rogue attack exposed the Alliance's plans, endangering us all. Erynn, Thaloryn has bartered with Valeria, harming Kharis. And Slyvara, Zythera hoards energy-rich plants, forcing Mechanis to rely on covert deals with the Republic to maintain our machines. This Alliance has always been selfish, driven by individual gain. Set aside your grudges—we must unite again."
"He's right," another Alliance member chimed in. "As you've heard, Titus Aurelian is preparing his most formidable fleet. Without unity, we'll remain subjugated forever."
Kael scoffed, his face dripping with contempt. "Unite? With those who betray their allies for profit? The Nomad Kha will not cooperate with backstabbers."
Erynn, unable to restrain herself, raised her hand, a burst of light crackling the air. "Silence, barbarian! If Kharis is dying, it's your own doing, not Thaloryn's! We tried to maintain peace to protect everyone, but you've ruined it all! Had we not revealed Kharis's rare ores, would Valeria have relinquished those trade routes? Without them, could we have freely shipped food to aid your savage tribes? You fools!"
Kael's sneer deepened. "Your so-called peace, preached by hypocritical elites living in luxury, is just groveling before Valeria while they plunder the galaxy's resources! Thaloryn, you're nothing but cowards!"
Vox-7 activated his mechanical arm, emitting a sharp warning hum. "Enough! Keep this up, and we're only making it easier for Valeria to crush us one by one!" But his words were drowned out as a Nomad Kha warrior shoved a Thalor prophet, sparking a brawl. The prophets unleashed bursts of psychic energy, while the Nomad Kha warriors swung their bio-swords. The clash of metal and light shook the cave, reverberating with chaos.
Sylvara threw herself into the fray, her bio-vines lashing out to restrain Kael and a Thalor prophet. "Stop! Are you trying to destroy us all?" she screamed. But a surge of psychic energy blasted her back, blood seeping from her shoulder. Vox-7, instead of intervening, stepped back, his metallic voice icy: "This Alliance was a mistake from the start."
The chaos only ceased when a rock wall collapsed, engulfing the cave in choking dust. Sylvara, rising with a scratched and bloodied face, roared, "Get out! If you want to die, go ahead!" Kael, still flushed with rage, spat a curse and stormed out with the Nomad Kha. Erynn, wrapping her crystalline cloak tightly, departed coldly with the Thalor prophets. Vox-7, disconnecting his emotional protocols, vanished into the shadows without a glance back.
Sylvara sank to her knees, the shattered crystal shard crumbling beneath her feet. The Free Peoples' Alliance disintegrated in a storm of hatred and discord, leaving Zythera shrouded in an eerie silence. Beyond the cave, the Valeria Republic prepared its vengeful strike, and no one was ready to face it.