Planet Omnira. A hidden gem on the fringes of the galaxy.

  ?There lay the village, a remote settlement inhabited by the remnants of the Spartan race. They were anomalies who rejected technology. They plowed the fertile earth with the strength of their own backs, using simple tools of wood and stone, living in harmony with the heartbeat of nature.

  ?The villagers were all friendly, yet they harbored a primal power that slept behind their calm smiles.

  ?That afternoon, a gentle breeze carried the scent of wet earth and foliage. Under the shade of a giant tree that had stood for hundreds of years, little Lucas—only five years old—sat leaning against his mother, Lysandra.

  ?"Mother..." Lucas looked up, his large, innocent eyes reflecting the sunlight filtering through the leaves. "Why can't we mingle with the other races?"

  ?Lysandra paused her fingers, which were combing through her son's hair. She smiled a small smile—a secretive one that hid a long and bloody history.

  ?"Where did you hear that, my love?" she asked softly, pinching Lucas's cheek playfully.

  ?"My friend said so," Lucas replied, his face scrunching up in seriousness. "And also... why can't we study Lux Energy? My friend said there's a fairy tale that our blood is blessed with Lux compared to other humans."

  ?Lysandra sighed softly, patting Lucas's head with a soothing gentleness. "Right now, we live peacefully with what we have, Lucas. We gather our own food, the land is fertile... we must learn to be content, my dear."

  ?Lucas pursed his lips, clearly unsatisfied with an answer that sounded like an adult's riddle. But his protest died in his throat when he heard his mother's laugh—crisp as wind chimes.

  ?Those were warm days. He remembered his father's broad, sturdy shoulders, his favorite place to climb and see the world from a height.

  ?Every night, the Spartan race would gather around a massive bonfire. Tongues of fire danced in their eyes as they sang songs in an ancient tongue—the language of war and glory that Lucas did not yet understand, but felt familiar in his blood.

  ?"Father! Look! I can lift this stone!" Lucas shouted one night, proudly showing off a river stone the size of his head that he had managed to lift to chest height. Small veins bulged in his little arms.

  ?His father, Leon, grinned broadly. He rubbed his son's head with a calloused hand full of scars—the hand of a farmer that had once held a spear. "Strong! Maybe one day you can lift a mountain, Son! Hahaha!"

  ?Lysandra arrived carrying a basket of forest fruits, chuckling at the behavior of her two men.

  ?"Don't teach him to show off strength, Leon," she chided gently, her eyes shining under the firelight. "Teach him to protect it."

  ?That was Lucas's last memory of peace. A perfect painting before the canvas was violently torn apart.

  ?Because in the next second, the sky split open.

  ?There were no dark clouds, no sign of rain. There was only a flash of golden light so blinding it blinded anyone who dared to look at it. The air suddenly felt heavy, smelling of sharp ozone like burning metal.

  ?The sound of a war trumpet was deafening—not from the earth, but from the heavens—thundering, shaking the ground so violently that Lucas fell to his knees. The stone in his hand slipped, rolling away helplessly.

  ?From behind the tear of light in the sky, a fleet of giant golden warships descended slowly, their massive shadows covering the village. Birds flew in panic; livestock bellowed in terror and broke through their pens.

  ?The main ship landed with a boom that cracked the earth. The ramp door opened, hissing hot steam.

  ?From within, a figure descended who looked as if he were hewn from mountain stone, not human flesh. His bulging muscles seemed ready to explode from behind his golden armor. His mere presence was enough to make the surrounding air feel suffocating, making the villagers' knees tremble.

  ?HERCULES. The Demigod.

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  ?The peaceful villagers were confused, terror creeping onto their faces.

  ?"What are you here for?!" shouted one of the village elders from a distance, his voice trembling. "Were you sent by someone?!"

  ?Leon didn't ask. He knew. His eyes met Lysandra's.

  ?"Lysandra, get Lucas out of here. Now!"

  ?Lysandra immediately grabbed Lucas, who was still frozen in confusion.

  ?Hercules did not answer the elder's question. He simply raised his hand, and his voice boomed, more powerful than any thunder.

  ?"ERASE THEM! LEAVE NO ONE ALIVE!"

  ?In the blink of an eye, the peaceful village turned into hell. Golden soldiers flooded the village. The Spartans, farmers who had long forgotten war, ran to grab worn spears and farming tools. War broke out in a night now illuminated by fire.

  ?"Hah? Aren't you dirty people forbidden from learning to fight, huh?!" An elite Hercules soldier laughed as a villager's spear snapped against his armor.

  ?Hercules himself walked casually amidst the massacre, swatting away the villagers' attacks as if they were flies. "You think with strength like this you can fight us, who are nobler than you? You are nothing but the dirty remnants of history on this planet!"

  ?The Spartans began to fall. Blood soaked their fertile soil. The combat power was too unbalanced.

  ?Suddenly, a shadow leaped from the midst of the chaos.

  ?Leon.

  ?He lunged at the mighty Hercules. Not as a farmer, but as a Spartan. A thin coating of energy, barely visible—Lux—coated his worn axe.

  ?Silence for a moment. A thin scratch appeared on Hercules' cheek. A drop of blood dripped.

  ?"Lord Leon..." whispered a dying villager, hope in his eyes.

  ?Hercules wiped the blood from his cheek, then grinned hideously. "Oi oi... that slash of yours... used Lux Energy, didn't it? Aren't you dirty dogs forbidden from learning it?"

  ?Without warning, Hercules swung his fist. The punch looked casual, but the impact shattered the air around them.

  ?The punch struck Leon's chest. The sickening sound of crushing bone echoed. Leon was thrown through the wall of his own house, and instantly, he moved no more.

  ?"LEON!" screamed Lysandra.

  ?Houses burned to the ground. The giant tree in the center of the village was now a massive torch. There was no more green grass, only ash and blood.

  ?Lysandra, tears flooding her face, dragged Lucas behind a burning stable. She prepared the only remaining horse with trembling hands.

  ?"Mother..." Lucas sobbed.

  ?"Get on, Lucas!" Lysandra lifted her son's small body onto the saddle.

  ?But it was too late. A soldier of Hercules saw them.

  ?"Where do you think you're going, little rat?!"

  ?Lysandra looked at her son one last time. A look full of love, and farewell.

  ?"Lucas, go. Live!"

  ?His mother slapped the horse's rump with all her might. The horse whinnied in shock and bolted, carrying little Lucas away from that hell.

  ?"MOTHER!! I DON'T WANT TO LEAVE YOU!!"

  ?Lucas looked back, screaming amidst the galloping of the horse.

  ?He saw his mother turn, grabbing a shovel to hold off the soldier so he wouldn't chase Lucas. He saw the soldier laugh, and with one brutal motion, pierce his mother's chest.

  ?Lucas saw Lysandra, his mother whose laugh was like wind chimes, fall lifeless to the ground.

  ?"NOOO!!"

  ?The soldier who killed his mother watched Lucas getting further away. The soldier's body began to twitch, expand, his armor shattering as he morphed into a terrifying bipedal dog monster. The monster howled and chased Lucas with unnatural speed.

  ?Lucas spurred his horse in blind terror. The monster's breath was getting closer behind him. Amidst the flashing lights of the terrifying night, Lucas's horse tripped over a tree root.

  ?Lucas was thrown. His world spun before hitting the ground hard.

  ?His vision blurred. The last thing he saw before his consciousness faded was the dog monster leaping at him with bared fangs—

  ?—and then, a black-robed figure emerged from the void, slicing the monster in two with a single fluid motion. Black blood spurted.

  ?The black-robed man looked down at little Lucas, who had fainted on the ground. He bent down, lifted the boy's body from the ruins of his world, and carried him far away from the hell that was once called home.

  ?StarCross City Center, Planet Omnira. Several hours later.

  ?Acid rain poured heavily, drenching the zinc roofs of the slum market in the poorest sector of StarCross. The stench of rotting fish blood and machine oil pooled in the air.

  ?In front of a rusty iron door, the Black Robed figure reappeared from the shadows. He placed Lucas, who was still unconscious, inside an empty fish basket lying there.

  ?The figure touched Lucas's forehead for a moment. On the boy's neck, a strange tattoo in the shape of an Omega (Ω) glowed dimly, pulsing in pain, before finally fading out.

  ?"Forget this pain..." whispered the figure, his voice heavy and hoarse. "Until you are strong enough to remember it."

  ?He knocked on the iron door three times hard.

  ?DONG. DONG. DONG.

  ?Then the figure vanished, dissolving back into the rain and the darkness of the night.

  ?Shortly after, the iron door creaked open. An old man with a hard, wrinkled face and a scrap mechanical arm appeared.

  ?Uncle Garp.

  ?He yawned widely, his sharp eyes squinting through the curtain of rain. "Who is it at this time of night? Crazy people..."

  ?Garp's eyes fell on the fish basket at his feet. His eyebrows raised. It wasn't filled with the rotten Kraken fish left over from today's sales, but a small boy soaked to the bone, shivering violently in his sleep.

  ?Garp fell silent. He looked left and right down the quiet, dark alley. There was no one, only the sound of rain and the hiss of steam pipes.

  ?He sighed a long, weary breath. His human hand scratched his bald head, then his rusty robotic hand lifted the basket with ease. His old face, usually looking fierce, softened slightly.

  ?"Well... at least you don't smell as fishy as a Kraken," Garp mumbled, bringing the boy in from the cold, cruel night.

  ?And so, Lucas, the last Spartan, was raised by a fishmonger in the garbage dump of the universe until he reached his teenage years.

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  ??? CREDIT SONG :

  思うまま : INNOSENT in FORMAL

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