The Blood Fallen Stars
Today's ceremony was a solemn event, attended by the leaders of Earth and its allies. The plaza surrounding the monument was filled with dignitaries, veterans, and civilians alike, all gathered to remember the war that had ended a decade ago. They stood quietly, heads bowed, as the official speakers took the stage. Rows of flags from every allied world fluttered gently in the breeze, the colors vivid against the stark white stone of the plaza. There was a somber stillness in the air, the kind that only comes when people stand united in their grief.
Massive screens displayed images of Earth's alliance worlds—Aquitar, Edenoi, KO-35, and Triforia—where similar ceremonies were taking place. On each world, leaders and survivors gathered, their collective grief uniting the galaxy on this day of remembrance.
On Aquitar, the nearly all-water world, a hush had fallen over the gathering. The few islands that dotted the ocean were silent, their shores lined with citizens paying tribute to their fallen. The soft lapping of waves provided a backdrop to the memorial event as the names of the lost were read aloud. The people of Aquitar bowed their heads as each name echoed across the waters, and though the ocean was vast, the silence in those moments was deeper still.
Edenoi, once a thriving world, now stood in quiet defiance of its own near-extinction. The heat of the twin suns beat down on the gathering, but none of the attendees moved to seek shade. They stood as still as the red sands beneath their feet, their eyes fixed on the figure of their archangel. As the names of their dead were displayed on the massive screens, a wave of grief rippled through the crowd. There were no tears from most—they had long since run dry—but the silence spoke of an anguish too deep to express.
On KO-35, the capital city was bathed in soft starlight, the towering crystal structures glinting faintly as the people stood beneath the grand spires. The faces of those in attendance were etched with a mixture of pride and sorrow. Here, where technology and precision ruled, the loss was felt just as profoundly. Some survivors still wore the visible signs of the war—cybernetic limbs, battle-worn armor polished for the ceremony—but the weight of the occasion transcended even their scars. Their eyes remained locked on the memorial, reflecting the names of their fallen comrades as they appeared on the giant screens overhead.
Triforia's ceremony unfolded with the gravity and grandeur befitting a planet steeped in ancient traditions. The golden plazas, normally resplendent in the sun, were shrouded in the long shadows cast by the towering pyramids. As the names of the fallen were called out, the people of Triforia stood shoulder to shoulder, eyes closed, whispering ancient prayers for the souls of those who had perished. There were no speeches, only the sacred chants of the elder Triforians, their voices carried by the wind, rising up to meet the heavens.
Back on Earth, the archangel loomed over the gathered crowd, its bloodied wings stretched wide, its ruby tears spilling across the marble paths beneath it. The monument stood silent but powerful, a symbol of endurance, yet those who stood before it today knew it also represented the deep cost of survival. The speeches droned on, dignitaries from each world taking their turn to speak of unity, sacrifice, and the hard-won peace they now enjoyed.
In the silence that followed, the names of the fallen began to scroll across the massive screens. First came the names of those who had died during Countdown, the first invasion. Each name was like a wound reopened, a reminder of how many lives had been lost in a matter of days. The crowd remained quiet, many of them lowering their heads in respect.
The screens shifted, showing the names and faces of those who had perished during the Countdown. The massacre that had lasted only 7 days, the one that had culminated in the loss of 3 billion souls. The events that had heralded the end of the nation state era. These names— billions of them—were etched into history now, forever bound to the monument and the archangel's tears.
The crowd stood still as the names continued to scroll, the weight of the moment settling over them like a heavy blanket. They had survived, but not without scars—both visible and hidden. Then, as the screens updated to reveal the names of those lost during the Elvenarus War, the silence that had filled the plaza shattered. Men and women began to wail, their cries piercing the air as the weight of more recent losses came crashing down on them. These deaths were not like those from Countdown, distant and historical. These were the names of friends, of family members who had fought and died only a decade ago. The pain was still raw, the grief still sharp.
Among those names were the soldiers, the Rangers, and the countless civilians who had been caught in the chaos. For them, there would be no victory parades, no triumph. Their only reward was a place among the stars, their names immortalized in stone and in memory.
The Elvenarus War struck the Sol system with calculated precision, focusing all of its destructive power on Earth, the lone target of their invasion. The rest of the galaxy watched as Earth became a proving ground for humanity's survival, its megacities—built after Countdown's devastation—bearing the brunt of every assault. Though none of the cities were reduced to ruins, each had been deeply scarred by waves of invasion. Time and again, the shields protecting these cities flared to life, absorbing the initial blows, while the people, soldiers, and Rangers fought with everything they had to push the enemy back.
The Elvenarus didn't fight like invaders merely seeking conquest; they targeted key locations with precision, as though searching for something vital.
Cincarion, the new heart of North America, had risen over the ashes of old Cincinnati, sprawling outwards with towering structures and vast infrastructure hubs. Its strategic location in the heartland made it one of the first and most frequent targets. The city's massive shields stretched across the sky, holding back relentless bombardments, while ground forces fought in the shadow of Cincarion's towering skyline, defending the vital trade routes and production centers that sustained Earth's war effort.
Across the ocean, Sangara—built over the remains of Beijing—had become Asia's cornerstone. The vast megacity, shimmering with advanced technology, became one of the most heavily fortified regions. The Elvenarus tested the city's defenses again and again, focusing on its fusion reactors and military facilities, but Sangara's layered defenses proved formidable. Automated drone fleets and tactical strike teams operated in unison with the Rangers, keeping the invaders from breaching the heart of the city, though each incursion left deep scars on its sprawling districts.
CoralVault, located along the southern coasts of Australia where Sydney once thrived, was constantly at war with the seas themselves. Built as a hybrid coastal fortress and underwater research center, CoralVault's lower levels extended beneath the ocean, vulnerable to attacks from the water as well as from the sky. The Elvenarus assaulted it repeatedly, striking at its naval ports and deep-sea research facilities. The battles in CoralVault's flooded streets were fierce, but the city's defense grid, a combination of aquitarian commandoes and naval command, kept the Elvenarus at bay, despite the heavy toll each attack exacted.
In Solari Delta, Africa's megacity constructed along the Nile River's fertile banks, the Elvenarus sought to sever Earth's access to one of its most vital resources: water. The city, built into the natural curves of the Nile Delta, combined towering arcologies with expansive hydro-electric grids, all vital to the surrounding region's survival. Each Elvenarus attack was aimed at crippling the infrastructure that controlled water flow to the arid regions of Africa, but the combination of city shields and elite desert strike teams thwarted every attempt to overwhelm the city's defenses. Yet the battle for Solari Delta left its mark, with key infrastructure damaged and hastily repaired between invasions.
Far to the south, Frostspire rose like a fortress in the frozen wastes of Antarctica, built over what had once been McMurdo Station. Unlike other cities, Frostspire's isolation was its strength, and its formidable walls of reinforced alloy were designed to withstand both the planet's harshest climates and the Elvenarus' incursions. The city's defenses were bolstered by its environment, with the treacherous terrain serving as a natural barrier against large-scale ground assaults. However, when the invaders did strike, they came from the sky, forcing Frostspire's inhabitants to fight in blizzard conditions, where visibility was near-zero and survival depended on technology as much as sheer will.
In Europe, Victoria was rebuilt over the remnants of Berlin, the megacity standing as a beacon of strength and unity for the entire continent. Its towering skyscrapers and historical landmarks intertwined with advanced infrastructure, symbolizing Europe's recovery from the devastation of Countdown. The Elvenarus targeted Victoria for its strategic importance, as the city controlled the communication and coordination hubs for much of the European forces. The battle for Victoria was one of attrition—each attack saw the city's shields strained to their limits, but its defenses held strong, thanks to the coordination of ground forces and the Rangers who stood vigilant.
Though the Elvenarus repeatedly tested the defenses of these megacities, they were never able to claim a lasting foothold. Their objective in the Sol system remained unclear—some speculated they sought Earth's resources, while others believed they hunted for something hidden deep beneath its surface. Whatever their goal, the people of Earth—soldiers, civilians, and Rangers—stood unwavering. The enemy's advanced technology and ruthless strategies clashed with Earth's indomitable will. Despite the scars left on the cities, the Elvenarus were repelled time and time again.
With each invasion, the megacities sustained new wounds: shattered infrastructure, damaged shields, and devastated streets. But Earth's spirit endured. The Rangers, always at the forefront, became symbols of humanity's resilience, turning what could have been overwhelming defeat into survival. From the high-tech skyline of Cincarion to the frozen defenses of Frostspire, every battle was a brutal fight for survival, each victory bought with determination and sacrifice.
Even though the true aim of the Elvenarus remained a mystery, one thing was certain—Earth would not fall. Its defenders—driven by sheer resolve—held the line, ensuring that no matter how fierce the enemy's onslaught, humanity's future remained their own.
As the final names scrolled across the screens, the gathered crowds stood in solemn reflection. The weight of loss, the devastation of war, and the memory of those who had given everything hung in the air. Men and women wept openly, while others stood silent, their grief too deep for words. The archangels, looming above the plazas on each world, remained bloodied and silent, their ruby tears a permanent reminder of the sacrifices made. Though the angels could not speak, it was clear that today, the people had offered their own voices, tears, and rage in tribute to those who had fallen. This was more than just a memorial—it was a collective promise, etched into every heart, that no matter how many times they were tested, humanity would endure. The names of the fallen might live on in stone, but their legacy lived on in the survivors, determined to protect the world they had fought so hard to save.