Upon the rooftops of what was once the vibrant capital of Ardor, the banners of the Solarii Empire fluttered as a silent reminder of dominance, their red and gold hues staining the view, erasing forever any trace of independence.
The streets, once full of life, were now filled with columns of armed soldiers.
The warriors of Ardor, pride of the resistance, knelt in rows, chained like cattle.
Many bled, others were covered in bruises. Yet their eyes burned with rage and humiliation.
Civilians were dragged from their homes, shoved by Solarian soldiers clad in gleaming armor.
Mothers clutched their children to their chests, eyes filled with despair, as if a simple touch might save their souls.
Elders fell to their knees, trembling hands extended, begging for a mercy that would never come.
The youth watched in silence, pain repressed, fists clenched, eyes swollen — as if each tear was an act of resistance against the inevitable.
In the center of the main square, a metallic platform had been erected swiftly.
Upon it stood Kael Varenn, supreme commander of the occupation forces. His impeccable uniform reflected the light of the setting sun, and his golden eyes swept across the crowd with calculated coldness.
He raised one hand, and the city's loudspeakers activated with a sharp sound, slicing through the oppressive silence.
"People of Ardor," his voice thundered, "today marks the end of insubordination and the beginning of a new era."
Absolute silence — even the children's sobs ceased out of fear.
"This planet now belongs to the Solarii Empire. Your capital is now the arm of the Sun that never sets. Under our banner, there will be no more chaos. There will be order. There will be progress. And for those who submit... there will be greatness."
He paused briefly, pacing the platform with his hands clasped behind his back.
"All men over fifteen years of age must present themselves for mandatory enlistment. Whether warriors or farmers, your strength now belongs to the Empire. Your talents will be cultivated. Your bodies, shaped. And your names... inscribed among the children of the Sun."
A murmur rose among the crowd, but a single gesture from Kael made the troops raise their weapons, silencing the people with a metallic snap.
"Rebellion will be exterminated. Loyalty will be... cultivated. And, in time, rewarded. But those who dare defy the Empire's order... will never see the sun rise again."
He then extended his arm, pointing to a kneeling young man — one of the few who held a steady gaze. "Raise this man."
Two soldiers lifted him by force, but Kael gestured gently for them to release him. The youth barely remained standing from the tension.
"This boy could die like the others, a mere statistic in the story of our victory. But... if he kneels before the Empire's banner, he shall live. And perhaps, one day, rise higher than he ever dared to dream."
The loudspeakers fell silent for a moment, before his voice returned, stronger:
"You have two days — two days to present yourselves, or you will be treated as traitors. Choose. Submit to the power of the Sun... or burn beneath its light."
The broadcast ended, and the troops began dispersing the crowd with sharp orders and curt shouts.
The sky was painted orange, but in Ardor, the sunset felt like the end of an era — and the birth of a darkness with too much light.
Two Solarian soldiers marched in silence, dragging Darius's unconscious body between them.
His arms hung limp, armor caked in dust and blood, the chains on his wrists clinking with each step, echoing through the marble halls of Ardor's former city hall — now transformed into the imperial command center.
Behind them walked the man who had captured him.
His gaze was cold, yet alert, hands clasped behind his back, chest puffed with restrained pride.
The group entered a large room with golden columns and crystal panels on the ceiling.
At its center, Kael Varenn studied floating holographic maps above a command table.
Noticing their approach, he turned, posture flawless, never allowing surprise to show.
The captor stepped forward and bowed slightly.
"Greetings, commander. This young one is a zerion, a very skilled fighter, sir. Took out a special squad in less than a minute."
Kael regarded him briefly, then turned his eyes to the unconscious boy before him.
"He's just a child. Has he been scanned yet? Any background info?"
"Not yet, sir."
Kael signaled with two fingers.
"You, soldier, bring a recognition device."
The soldier saluted and rushed out.
He soon returned with a silver metallic cylinder, the size of a short torch.
Its tip glowed in shades of blue, pulsing like an artificial heart.
He held it to Darius's temple — a beam scanned his face, chest, then wrist.
The display on top began processing the data.
And then...
Error.Error.Error.Error.
The display flashed red repeatedly with a soft, nearly inaudible beep. The soldier frowned.
Kael raised an eyebrow, his disdainful expression flickering momentarily, as if the data before him was an error.
But with a brisk motion, he composed himself and returned the scanner, his gaze now more focused.
Inside Darius's mind, a cold voice stirred, as if awakening from a calculated slumber.
'Host is being scanned. Hacking recognition system... altering data in real time. Please wait.'
The display buzzed one last time... and then stabilized.
An image appeared: the face of an ordinary boy, pale, with short black hair. The name below was banal, accompanied by mediocre data.
NAME: Darius VornAGE: 15AFFILIATED TO: Lieutenant Joran Vorn (confirmed deserter)NOTE: No threat registered.
'Data alteration complete. Identity change: successful.'
The soldier handed the scanner to Kael, who read the data with disinterest.
"Just the son of a deserter lieutenant. Nothing special." He returned the device with a flick of his wrist. "Sell him to a slave merchant."
"Yes, sir."
The soldiers nodded, lifted Darius once more by the arms, and dragged him out of the room, their footsteps echoing until they vanished down the corridor.
Kael crossed his arms, eyes fixed on the door where the boy had been taken.