37 Years Ago – Sipro Star System, Planet Chox
The battlefield was silent.
The chaos of war had faded, leaving only one man standing—a lone figure amidst a sea of broken bodies and shattered machines. Helius Vithathnam, the Fifth Rebellion King, had fought for three days and nights without rest. His golden eyes, once blazing with unyielding fire, now dimmed with exhaustion. Blood soaked his battle-worn armor, dripping onto the blackened soil beneath him.
Yet, even now, he smiled.
A deep hum echoed across the sky as a colossal warship descended. Its metallic hull gleamed coldly in the dying sunlight, bearing the jagged insignia of the Drewauge Clan—the second-strongest rebellion among the five thousand clans scattered across the galaxies.
The ship's doors hissed open, releasing a wave of heated air. A shadow fell across the battlefield as a towering figure emerged.
Robinson Drewauge.
A warrior who is also belong to s+class catagory. 154 years old, yet his sheer presence still made the ground seem to tremble. His pink-hued skin bore the scars of a hundred battles, and his gaze—steeled by centuries of bloodshed—softened at the sight of his fallen student.
His deep voice trembled."...Damn it, kid."
Helius wavered but did not fall. Three days of relentless battle had not brought him to his knees—only betrayal had. A blade, meant for his enemies, had found his back instead. Blood seeped from the fatal wound, but his spirit refused to yield.
Robinson clenched his fists, his voice laced with sorrow and frustration. "I am a big believer in Ankrit. And you, Helius... you led a war without taking a single life. You enforced justice without bloodshed." His voice grew heavier. "But is that why the gods have given up on us?"
Helius coughed, crimson staining his lips. Yet, he smiled—a weary, knowing smile. His breath came in slow, shallow gasps, but he gathered the last of his strength.
"The gods… they were never here to begin with." His voice was a whisper, yet it carried across the silent battlefield. "No gods are needed. Only warriors… warriors with the will to change."
He swallowed, his voice faltering, but the fire in his words remained.
"If there's no hope... we must become it. If there's no peace... we must forge it. And if there's no future..." His golden eyes flickered one last time. "We must seize it with our own hands."
For a moment, he stood against death itself.
Then, his strength gave out.
Helius collapsed, his head resting on his master's lap. His body stilled. His breathing ceased.
His smile never faded.
And once more, the battlefield fell silent.
Hours Later...
The sky darkened as warships from every corner of the galaxy arrived. Their engines hummed softly—a dirge for a fallen legend. From their hulls stepped the galaxy's mightiest leaders, drawn by the death of a man who had defied fate itself.
Three figures emerged first—each one a force capable of shaping entire worlds.
The first, Justice Kotu, leader of the Dharma Army. His silver skin gleamed under the blood-red sky, his presence heavy with the unyielding weight of law and order.
Beside him stood Domain, Director of the Space Cops—once Helius' equal in battle. His prosthetic leg clanked softly against the metal ground—a permanent reminder of the war they had fought side by side. He, too, was an S+ warrior, one of the twelve living legends who had shaped history.
And then, the air grew cold.
A third figure approached.
Bright Adam.
First Commander of the Vir Empire, and a high-ranking member of the Adam Clan—the most ruthless rulers across twenty-five galaxies. His face, smooth and pale, betrayed no emotion.
Robinson's voice was sharp and cold. "You don't belong here, Bright."
Bright Adam stopped a few steps away. His expression remained unreadable, but when his gaze fell upon Helius' still body, something flickered behind his eyes.
"...Even I have to pay my respects."
Justice Kotu scoffed. "An Adam Clan dog showing respect? Spare us the insult."
Domain shook his head. "Enough. We're here for Helius. Nothing else matters."
Robinson brushed a trembling hand through his apprentice's blood-matted hair. His voice, though quiet, was like steel beneath the grief.
"I'll take him to the place he chose long ago."
Domain nodded solemnly. "We'll see to the others. No warrior should be forgotten."
Bright Adam lingered a moment longer. In his gloved hand, unseen by the others, he clutched a small, worn coin—a relic of a promise made long ago.
Without another word, he turned and vanished into the dark.
A Week Later – An Unnamed World
Beneath the towering obsidian trees, Robinson stood alone.
At his feet lay Helius' grave—a towering, 15-foot stone statue carved in his image. His sword, immortalized in stone, pointed toward the heavens he had once fought to protect.
Robinson knelt, placing a rough, calloused hand on the cold monument.
"I've lived through too many wars," he murmured. "I've buried friends... rivals... even enemies. But you, Helius..." His voice faltered. "You were different."
A cold wind stirred the leaves, as if the world itself mourned his loss.
"In fifty years, you never took a single life," Robinson whispered. "You believed the strongest warrior is the one who saves—not destroys."
Behind him, Domain stepped forward quietly. His face, once stern, seemed older—wearier.
"I'm retiring from the Space Cops," he said, his voice soft. "Without Helius, the galaxy feels... different."
Robinson exhaled, a slow breath heavy with resolve.
"His dream won't die with him." His hands curled into fists. "The wars, the suffering... it has to end. If we want change, we have to make it happen."
Domain nodded. "Let's just hope the future brings warriors strong enough to carry that weight."
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the two warriors stood in silence—guardians of a dream too precious to let die.
Far above them, a lone star burned brighter against the endless void.
Perhaps, somewhere in the vastness of space, the next legend was already awakening.
Or perhaps, the echoes of Helius' will had already begun to move unseen hands.