The metal panels slid back with a pressurized hiss, disappearing into the walls like stage curtains drawn aside. For a moment, there was only silence until the black veil of space greeted him in full. His breath caught in his throat.
Floating just beyond the reinforced glass was a view that didn't belong to dreams or movies, but reality. The earth is vibrant, blue, and breathtaking. Clouds curled gently across its surface, and the sunlight flared behind it like a crown of gold, casting a warm glow through the window and across his skin. He stood there, unmoving and awestruck.
"I'm... in space?"
His voice came out as a whisper, nearly drowned by the humming silence around him. The thought was both exhilarating and unreal. He should've been thrilled like hell, he almost was. But the longer he looked, the more something began to twist in his gut. Something didn't feel right.
The Earth—it was too large, too towering. Its curvature was too pronounced, too overwhelming, like it wasn't just floating there, but looming. As if he were inches from the surface of a gas giant, not his home planet. He blinked hard, rubbed his eyes, but the image didn't change.
"No way... That's not how Earth should look."
Suddenly the silence became deafening. The room felt colder, emptier. Was he alone?
A tightness formed in his chest. His eyes darted around the room but there's no movement, no voices, nothing but the low thrum of unseen machinery and the gentle red pulse of the emergency lights. He swallowed hard, his voice trembling now.
"What is this place…? What the hell am I doing in space?"
Panic clawed at the edges of his mind, and for the first time since waking up, he realized how utterly, terrifyingly alone he might be. And how little he understood about who or what he had become.
A low hum trembled beneath his feet, faint at first, then building into a steady thrum that pulsed through the metal walls. Before he could question it, a calm, emotionless male voice echoed from invisible speakers across the chamber.
"Forbidden Class Super Battlecruiser—Ji, The Ultimate—is now operating at minimal power."
He tensed, his eyes darting around the dim room and the voice continued with unnerving precision.
"Critical fault detected in one of the dual Hypernova Class Reactor- Starflow Pulse-Drive Engine. To prevent catastrophic failure, both engines have been shut down."
Somewhere deep within the ship, the metals groaned. The floor vibrated as if the beast that carried him was shifting uncomfortably in its sleep. He looked up but still found no source for the voice and no way to talk back.
"Initiating emergency protocol. Deploying solar and cosmic radiation panels for auxiliary power generation."
Outside the massive window, long mechanical limbs unfurled like silent wings, extending thin panels into the void. They caught the pale light of the distant sun and the ambient hum of cosmic radiation, drinking in whatever energy they could.
"WARNING: Current energy yield is insufficient to restore full functionality. Locking down all non-essential systems and restricting technologies."
Heavy doors slammed shut somewhere beyond his view. The lights flickered once, then dimmed to a faint red glow that pulsed in time with the heartbeat of the ship. One by one, sections of the room sealed off behind reinforced walls, leaving him standing alone on the platform. A cold stillness followed, he swallowed hard and the silence louder than any alarm.
A sudden mechanical whir echoed from somewhere above, low and steady at first, then multiplying, like an orchestra of machines stirring from slumber. He instinctively looked up, eyes narrowing as something began to shift beyond the reinforced glass overhead.
Massive panels were unfolding from the ship's exterior, one after another in a slow and deliberate sequence. They extended outward like petals of a giant steel flower opening to greet the void. Each one stretched wide and far until they nearly matched the size of a stadium. He lost count as rows of them now hovered above the ship like a massive canopy.
They were beautiful in a haunting kind of way, glinting briefly as they caught the sunlight… and then blocking it entirely. The room dimmed and the warmth from the sun vanished in an instant, replaced by a sterile, artificial cold. Only a few rays of light managed to slip through the tight slits between the panels, casting long, narrow beams across the floor, like faint reminders of the outside world.
He stood there frozen with a slight slack jaw. It wasn't just the scale of the ship that overwhelmed him but it was the silence that followed. The bone-deep quiet of space pressing in around him. He wasn't sure if he felt like a passenger on some great vessel or a prisoner locked in an orbiting tomb. Either way… the universe suddenly felt very, very far away from him.
A low hum stirred the silence, echoing through the metal walls like the slow heartbeat of something vast awakening. The harsh red glow of the alarms faded, replaced by the soft flicker of lights powering up overhead. One by one, white lights clicked on, banishing the emergency crimson in favor of calm clarity. The sirens finally cut off with a sharp halt and in their absence, a gentle hush settled over the chamber.
Then came the breeze. Cool, filtered air rolled in through unseen vents above, brushing against his bare skin like a whisper. It was refreshing, almost too refreshing. He shivered but not from the cold. There was something else, something strange coursing through him. He looked down at his body and froze.
The frail, skeletal form he remembered, the sickly bones and starved muscle was gone. In its place was a figure sculpted like a warrior. Lean muscle wrapped tightly across his frame, shoulders broadened, chest full with each steady breath. His skin was firm and smooth, his veins pulsing with strength. Every inch of him radiated vitality, so unnatural, foreign, but undeniably real. He stared, stunned, flexing his hand just to feel the power move under the surface.
"What the hell just happened to me again?" he muttered as his voice barely above a whisper, carried off by the breeze.
No answer came but only the quiet hum of machines and the unfamiliar rhythm of a new body he didn't recognize as his own.
He was staring at his arms, the machines wrapped in skin. Muscles like braided cables shifted under skin that shimmered with faint, nano-sized hexagons. Graphene skin, the voice had said. And something about Boron Nitride Nanotube muscles, Aerogel arteries… all of it too surreal to believe, yet unmistakably real. He touched his chest with half-expecting it to feel foreign. Instead, it pulsed with warmth, smooth, responsive, disturbingly normal. It was his body and yet, it wasn't.
Then the same flat, male voice echoed once more from somewhere above:
"Transferring command rights as instructed. Welcome aboard, General. Prioritizing all available resources for General use.
ERROR: Power and resource levels critically low. Unable to fulfill full operational support.
Executing emergency protocol... SUCCESS. Entering hibernation mode. All systems are now running at minimal efficiency."
He blinked. "General?" he said aloud, trying to process it. "What do you mean, General? I don't even know how to pilot this ship!"
His voice echoed back at him. No reply followed but just a low hum from the walls as the system powered down, leaving him standing there alone, confused, and overwhelmed on a warship he apparently commanded… but didn't understand.
A sharp hiss sliced through the silence like gas escaping under pressure. He flinched and turned toward the sound just in time to see two massive metal panels splitting apart from the center. What he'd thought were just walls were actually sealed doors and is now groaning open with mechanical precision.
From the darkness beyond, the sound of footsteps echoed against the steel floor. They are slow, steady and unmistakably human.
He froze when two figures emerged partially into his view. They stopped just at the edge of the light, their upper halves swallowed in shadow. Neither of the two spoke and neither of them moved closer. They just stood there as if waiting for him.
His pulse quickened. Why were they holding back? Why remain hidden in the dark unless they had a reason to?Then another realization struck him like a bolt of cold air.
He was completely naked. He's flushed with sudden embarrassment and instinctively covers himself with both hands.
"Who… who are you?" he called out while trying to keep his voice steady though it trembled slightly at the edges. "What do you want?"
But the figures said nothing. There's no reply and no shift in posture. Just the low hum of the ship and the flicker of artificial light casting long, flickering shadows on the metal floor. They waited and somehow, that silence felt louder than any alarm he'd heard so far.
"Hey… are you guys stuck in here too?" he asked with an unsteady voice. "And why are you hiding back there? Can you… come out where I can see you?"
There was a fragile hope in his words, clinging to the idea that maybe, just maybe that they were human too, survivors like him. Anything to prove he wasn't alone in this vast, silent ship.
The two figures shifted in the shadows then as if moved by something in his tone, they stepped forward slowly and carefully. Their movements were deliberate and gentle like they understood he was barely holding it together. They stopped a few feet away to maintain a respectful distance and to give him space as if they were trying not to overwhelm him.
From the edge of the shadows, figures finally moved. The soft hum of energy resonated through the air, sounding too delicate to be called machinery, yet too precise to be natural. As the cold white lights reached them and the darkness peeled away, what he saw left him speechless. The truth of their forms was something else entirely.
From the shadowed corridor, the other one emerged like moonlight —quiet, deliberate, and impossibly graceful. She moved with a presence that defied the stillness around her. Her every step was soundless, measured, and fluid as if gravity itself bent to her pace. She was tall enough to command attention yet carried herself with such delicate poise that she felt more like an exquisite art than a person.
The light caught on her skin, a porcelain pale with a cool undertone with faintly luminescent like the moon reflected on still water. It wasn't artificial yet it felt unearthly. Her face was a portrait of symmetry with high, smooth cheekbones, a narrow and elegant nose and lips that rested in a soft, unreadable smile. She didn't have any emotion yet she emanated, holding mystery like a veil around her soul.
Then her eyes met his, a pair of luminous with a quiet silver glow, tinted lavender at the edges that they didn't cut or intimidate. Instead, they pulled his attention with a deep, calm and magnetic, like the surface of a moonlit lake. He couldn't help but stare and yet he felt exposed under that silent gaze, as if every flinch or breath was being seen and understood. Her hair flowed freely, long till the waist and dark with subtle shimmers woven through like threads of starlight. No ornate buns or ceremonial braids, only sweeping side locks that framed her face like brushstrokes on silk.
She wore robes that fluttered softly as she moved, dyed in the hues of muted jade, moonlight white, and plum blossom pink. Layered and sheer, the robes caught the ambient light and gave her an ethereal silhouette. Beneath the translucent fabric, a refined dudou wrapped her upper torso, revealing just enough to hint at the curve and busts of her form without being overt.
Even in this alien place, among cold steel and humming systems, she felt timeless, a mix of ancient and futuristic all at once.
Then came a sound that's gentle, low, like temple bells chiming through a dream. A hum, not mechanical but resonant. It's spiritual and warm, filling the air around him, subtly like sunlight seeping through closed eyelids.
The second figure stepped forward, emerging from the shadow with calm certainty. The room seemed to recognize him as the ambient lighting shifted with a faint golden glow of ancient glyphs coming to life along the floor beneath his steps.
He was tall and muscularly fit, his body sculpted in sleek, dark alloy that's neither armor nor flesh but something between. The metal that formed his humanoid frame bore inscriptions that pulsed faintly with soft gold, glowing unreadable characters that shimmered as if they were breathing and alive.
A solar core glowed faintly at the center of his abdomen that's not harsh like a reactor but warm, like a lantern lit in a sacred hall. Integrated bracers and shin guards hugged his limbs seamlessly, they are not bulky but precise and designed to move with the fluidity of thought rather than brute force.
His face is mechanical but expressive in the smallest ways like a century-wise sage. No lips to curl or brow to furrow, and yet… there was emotion. His eyes, carved with solar-glyph irises, radiated intelligence and watchfulness, golden light dancing within their centers like suns locked in stillness. When he turned his head, the reflections in his eyes changed and left trail lines that resemble solar flares. His hair caught the light like flowing strands of sun itself. It's short in the back, clean and disciplined, while the top flowed into a longer crest that swept slightly to one side. Each strand gleamed faintly, woven with micro-filament solar threads that gave the appearance of golden silk touched by daylight. A style that spoke of warrior-monks that's practical yet radiant.
Wrapped over his frame was a cloak that's not for concealment, but for reverence. A monk-like drape, asymmetrical in cut, woven with solar-thread fabric that shimmered when it caught the light. It didn't flutter but rather it responded. A reactive garment that's alive with its own thoughts.
Around him, the air felt denser, yet peaceful. As if time slowed slightly in his presence. The hum grew clearer, vibrating just beyond hearing with a frequency that resonated more with the soul than the ear.
They were not human, but so as they were no machine.
A soft voice broke the silence. His voice measured, calm, and resolute, as if it carried the weight of something far older than it appeared.
"Our sincerest apologies, General…" the male figure began, his words clear and deliberate. "But we are not the kind of company you were hoping to find."
The other figure, delicate and poised, stepped forward just slightly. Her presence is graceful and grounded.
"He is TaiYang," she said gently, the soft lilt of her voice washing over the sterile air. "And I am TaiYin. We understand how we may appear, but we are not human. We are androids."
WuYan blinked, eyes darting between them. The words didn't land immediately, definitely not in the way they should have. A weak laugh slipped out of him, more out of disbelief than amusement.
"Ha… come on," he said, holding up both hands in a defensive shrug. "That's a good one. Androids? Seriously? Is this some kind of a prank? You two are just people messing with me, right?"
Neither TaiYang nor TaiYin responded right away. They merely watched him in silence, one like the stillness of sunlight over stone, the other like moonlight over still water. Then TaiYang's expression changed subtly, his solar-glyph eyes narrowing with faint intensity.
"We do not joke," he said, and the warmth in his tone vanished like the sun behind a sudden eclipse. "If you require proof… we will demonstrate."
WuYan took a cautious step back. The chill in the air had changed as it's no longer from the ventilation but from something deeper. Something ancient and artificial had stirred.
A low hum like temple bells echoing through space vibrated through the chamber, followed by a sound like compressed steam hissing from hidden valves. Then without warning, the two figures before him began to change.
First was TaiYang. His sleek humanoid frame, once cloaked in monk-like robes now shifted with a complex elegance. Segmented plates began to part and fold back with mechanical precision, revealing dense inner workings of the fibrous, dark alloy muscles reinforced with golden glyphs that pulsed with energy.
With each piece that unlocked, the glow of his solar core intensified. A brilliant white circle of light ignited at his abdomen like a second sun that's radiating outward in soft pulses. The golden arcane lines that once shimmered faintly now gleamed in full intensity and flowing like circuits powered by celestial fire.
His face followed. Once mechanical and expressive, it is now encased in a full mirror-like visor. A thin scanning line, luminous and fluid, glided across it in steady rhythm. Behind him, twin back panels slid open and emitting faint solar flares that shimmered like wings made of heat.
"TaiYang. Combat Protocol Alpha engaged."
There was no bravado in his voice but just calm certainty. He looked like a god forged from light and discipline, standing silently like a monk who had mastered the art of destruction.
Then came TaiYin.
Her transformation was quieter, slower yet somehow more haunting. As if answering a silent call, her layered robes loosened. Silken strands began to drift upward like mist caught in a breeze, slowly unraveling to reveal a sleek, high-cut leotard that clung to her porcelain form with ethereal elegance.
Delicate veil-like gloves and leggings formed over her limbs, barely-there but outlining her movements like the shadows of a dancer. Her heels clicked softly against the floor, graceful yet grounded but chosen not for combat, but to move with purpose.
Then her body began to open in a tight crevice. Small, precise seams formed along her arms, collarbones, and sides. Plates slide back noiselessly and reveal dark, metallic muscle fibers laced with near-black Yin energy, a glowing violet so deep it seemed to devour light. Her own circular core lit up in a dusky plum-purple which is soft but unwavering.
Finally, her face that's already calm and mysterious now separated into seamless panels that folded inward. A visor settled into place, glass-dark and flawless, scanning silently with a thin violet beam.
"TaiYin. Initial combat state engaged."
Where TaiYang radiated warmth like a rising sun, TaiYin emanated stillness like a moonlit lake. And standing there together, they were no longer mere companions but more like guardians.
WuYan stood frozen naked, vulnerable and stunned. His earlier doubts about their identity melted away, replaced by something harder to describe. A mix of awe and fear, confusion and gratitude.
The moment their bodies began to shift with skin peeling into segmented plates, metallic tendons flexing beneath and soft sparks replacing any trace of blood, WuYan's instincts screamed at him. His breath hitched and his body tensed.
What had once looked so human, so composed, now stood as something else entirely, elegant machines cloaked in flesh, glowing with strange power. TaiYang's golden lines pulsed with radiant light as a circular flare lit up his chest like a miniature sun. Beside him, TaiYin's body shimmered with deep violet circuits that danced like liquid shadow, her own chest aglow with a darker lunar light. Their faces, once expressive, were now masked beneath full mirrored visors, scanning lines sweeping methodically across the surface.
"Wait—don't… don't come any closer!" WuYan stammered, retreating a few unsteady steps. His voice caught between awe and rising panic.
TaiYang stopped at once and with a silent command, the plates along his body folded back into place, shifting fluidly until his human form returned. The soft golden lines dimmed to a gentle hum. TaiYin followed, her haunting beauty piece itself together like silk reforming from thread. Her robes settling, porcelain skin reappearing, moonlit eyes returning to their serene gaze.
They looked human again but WuYan couldn't shake what he'd seen. He didn't move closer and he didn't know what to say. A part of him wanted to believe it had been a hallucination but deep inside, he knew better. They hadn't lied. They weren't human but they had chosen to reveal themselves for him and whatever they were… they were watching him just as carefully.
TaiYang took a step forward, his movements deliberate and poised. He placed his hand lightly over his chest, and offered a polite bow.
"Please forgive us for revealing our true forms so abruptly. I understand this must be difficult to process and perhaps even harder to believe." His voice, calm yet sincere, carried the kind of warmth only precise programming could mimic flawlessly. "Should you need our aid—simply place your hand over your chest and speak either of our names. That will be enough to summon us."
TaiYin stepped beside him, her eyes gentle as the moonlight her name evoked. She gave a delicate nod, her posture elegant, measured.
"We also received standing directives that should the General awaken, we are to present your original garments. They may help rekindle your memory of who you once were." Her voice was soft, but carried a subtle hint of grace. "Along with them, I've prepared a fresh set tailored to your current form, something comfortable and dignified."
The two androids bowed in sync, their movements as smooth as flowing silk.
"We will take our leave now," TaiYin said gently.
"But remember," TaiYang added, his voice a reassuring echo, "you are not alone aboard this ship."
Without waiting for a response, the two turned silently and exited the room. The room fell silent again, save for the faint ambient hum of the ship's systems. Just when he thought nothing else would happen, a low mechanical hiss echoed across the chamber. From the center of the podium, two circular pods emerged smoothly from hidden compartments, one to his left and the other to his right like sealed coffins waiting to be opened.
The left pod clicked open with a quiet release of steam. Inside lay a damaged military uniform, neatly arranged despite its ruined state. The fatigues were torn in several places, with large, black scorch marks on nearly every surface, a clear sign of intense battle, or worse. Both shoulder patches had been burned beyond recognition, their insignias charred into ambiguity. Only two pieces of information clung to the fabric like forgotten memories: a half-destroyed nickname—"Boss"—beneath the insignia and a name—"WuYan"—stitched faintly above the chest.
His breath caught for a moment. Slowly and almost cautiously, he reached out and ran his fingertips over the name tag. The cloth felt dry and brittle in some areas as though it might crumble at any moment. He lingered there, hoping that just touching it might unlock some fragment of memory but there was nothing. There's no spark, no vision, not even a surge of recognition.
A hollow emptiness pressed against his chest. Frustration stirred deep inside and was rising fast but he caught it, gritted his teeth, and exhaled slowly through his nose.
"Getting mad won't help." he murmured to himself, retreating from the fatigue with clenched fists and a taut jaw. He knew that anger wouldn't fill the void in his head and damn sure that it wouldn't bring anything back.
His gaze shifted to the pod on the right as it opened with the same gentle hiss. Inside was something entirely different, it's a carefully folded Hanfu. A traditional robe, reminiscent of an era long past. A design that's made not for war but for ceremony and for reflection.
Two pieces of clothing, two versions of himself. One wrapped in fire and ruin, the other wrapped in quiet tradition. Both were his. And yet, one can't spark a memory, the other is about to start a new one. He stood in silence, caught between a name and a question, between who he was and who he might yet become.
The silver Hanfu shimmered softly beneath the overhead light, its silk threads catching each beam and reflecting them softly. He approached it slowly with hands reaching out, brushing against the cool, impossibly smooth fabric. It was weightless and refined, the kind of material that didn't just clothe someone but honoring them.
Laid neatly beside it was a white inner robe made of soft, breathable cotton and folded on top was a black-and-white coat, crafted from supple leather. The coat's texture alone told him it was something rare. Everything about its ensemble whispered of prestige, a formality without stiffness, tradition without fragility.
"These weren't made for just anyone," he muttered to himself.
Gently, he lifted the garments from the pod and took his time. He wasn't familiar with the layers, the folds, or the subtle ties that held the pieces together but he figured it out, piece by piece, allowing his hands and body to learn, each movement felt purposeful like part of a ritual. When he finally tightened the sash around his waist, he caught a glimpse of himself in the faint reflection on the glass.
The outfit fit him perfectly. It's sleek where it needed to be, spacious where movement mattered. The robe flowed with his steps, the coat sat comfortably over his shoulders and the fabrics moved like they belonged to his body. Whoever tailored this knew his shape better than he did.
As if on cue, the twin pods hissed and slowly descended back into the floor, disappearing without a trace. Silence settled over the room again. He stood still for a moment while gazing toward the vast black sea outside the observation deck. Stars blinked from beyond, cold and distant, while massive planetary bodies turned slowly in the void but his eyes drifted away from the cosmos and toward the door, the one where TaiYang and TaiYin had vanished moments ago.
"They called me 'General'..."
He stared down at his hands, his fingertips lightly brushed the hem of the robe, grounding him in the present. He didn't know who he was yet but someone had remembered and they had prepared all this, waiting for him to return. And now, maybe it was time to find out why.
"Given the situation... I guess I don't really have a choice but to interact with them. Yeah, they're androids but if they meant me harm, they had all the chances in the world to end me when I was completely helpless."
He sighed quietly, glancing toward the door they left through.
"The way they spoke, their posture... It didn't feel fake. In fact, they seemed more courteous and sincere than most people I remember, that's it if I remember anything at all."
A dry chuckle escaped his lips.
"Not that I have any right to judge them, honestly. I mean, look at me, I'm part machine too. Maybe... they're the only ones who can tell me what the hell happened. Why am I like this? Why can't I remember anything?"
His expression hardened slightly, not in anger but quiet determination because he knew he had to start somewhere to search for the truth.
"Yeah... maybe it's time to stop avoiding them and start finding out the truth."
With a quiet breath, he stepped forward and toward the door. Not because he knew where it would lead but
He paused, letting out a slow breath as he gathered his thoughts. There was no point staying in the room any longer as he needed answers and there were only two beings aboard who might be able to give them.
Even if they were androids, he thought. At least they treated me like a person.
With quiet resolve, he approached the door and it slid open with a smooth hiss, revealing the corridor bathed in soft, ambient light. He stepped out and only to freeze for a moment in surprise.
TaiYang and TaiYin hadn't left. They were still there, standing silently just beyond the doorway with TaiYang to the left, TaiYin to the right, like loyal sentinels waiting for him to reemerge. The moment he stepped past the threshold, both bowed slightly, their movements synchronized and graceful.
Their gesture is not rigid, not cold but respectful, it was a quiet acknowledgment of his presence, of who he was and of what he might become. In that moment, WuYan felt the faint stirrings of reassurance. He wasn't alone and perhaps… he never had been.
WuYan stood tall but cautious, eyeing the two figures flanking the door. Despite their courteous demeanor, his instincts remained sharp.
"TaiYang and TaiYin, is it? I… need your help," he said, trying to keep his voice steady.
As they rose gracefully from their synchronized bow, WuYan silently debated his next move.
Should I just ask what happened to me? No… better to feel them out first. See how they respond.
"Yes, General," TaiYang replied with a calm dignity. "How may we assist you?"
WuYan noted their formal and respectful tone but not robotic. There was something eerily natural about how they moved and spoke. Still, he kept his guard up.
"I'd like… a tour of this spaceship," he said, gauging their reactions.
TaiYin gave a small nod, her voice composed but distant.
"Understood. However, please be advised that this ship spans approximately eight kilometers in length and one kilometer in width. A complete tour on foot would require more than half a day, which is unless, of course, you intend to sprint the whole way."
WuYan blinked. "Wait… what? Eight kilometers?" He stared blankly at them for a moment before gesturing in disbelief. "Are you saying this ship is… absurdly huge?"
TaiYang met his gaze, serene as ever.
"This vessel is classified as a Forbidden-Class Super Battlecruiser: Ji, The Ultimate. Its dimensions are proportional to its designation."
WuYan let out a low breath and muttered under his breath.
"Right… because waking up in a flying fortress wasn't enough." He scratched his head and sighed.
Well, I wanted answers. Guess it starts with a very, very long hallway.