Episode 1: At The Beginning Of The Seas

[Note: When you read the first 20+ chapters, you might think it is a cliche story based on a main character who will be a freedom fighter and he'll free this world and voila! That's the end of story with some cliche fantasy themes. No! It's not solely based on freedom struggles inspired by American or Indian revolutions and fantasies of Game of Thrones or Star Wars or Marvel's Avengers and Shonen Animes. So please ensure you continue reading. The first chapters might not be that good, but I can very well ensure you that the story isn't bad.]

Alexander the Great: "I am not afraid of an army of lions led by a sheep; I am afraid of an army of sheep led by a lion."

Lord Acton: "Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely."

Albert Camus: "The only way to deal with the unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion."

Emmeline Pankhurst: "I would rather be a rebel than a slave."

Niccolò Machiavelli: "It is better to be feared than loved, if you cannot be both."

"The Rise of Yahunyens... has just dawned."

In the void an ethereal ghostly being without feet stood on seemingly nothing, as it sensed space being ripped apart it spoke,

"Old man, you tried to delay the inevitable, now see the fate you tried so hard to stop." 

As the void broke and shattered into undefinable nothingness, a hooded figure soundlessly emerged from it. He didn't answer the ghostly entity but let out a sigh as he watched on Omniverse's mightiest Gods fall to...

"Brighter Dark."

.....

"My name is Yesdar... Yesdar Hawins. I have been a victim of the 'Mackenasian Slave Exploitation Order of the Government of Yahunya' like many. The tale goes long back before I had begun the war. But, I can at least say, as I have the right to... this revolution would have never begun... if Griswa Skaar wasn't there..."

In the ancient annals of Aeartha's history, the tale of the Great War between the Royal Family of Amaulya and Shulvri and the enigmatic Yahunyens was etched in blood and shadow. Mackenas, once a sprawling continent, bore witness to the cataclysmic clash that shattered its unity, dividing it into smaller lands that echoed with the whispers of forgotten glories.

Long before the gleaming spires of skyscrapers pierced the heavens and flying ships traversed the azure skies, the land of Aeartha was a realm of dark past and unknown histories, where Gods walked before the existence of mortals.

Among these deities, none were more feared and revered than Ozem Nurulis, the Greater God known as the Brighter Dark. His followers, the Yahunyens, emerged from the depths of the cosmos like shadows given form, their devotion to their dark deity unwavering as they swept across the land in a tide of conquest.

Once, the Royal Family of Amaulya and Shulvri held sway over the entirety of Aeartha, their rule benevolent and just. But when the Yahunyens descended upon the continent of Mackenas like a ravenous horde, the once-mighty kingdom was sundered, its lands torn asunder by the fires of war.

For more than a hundred and eighty-five thousand years, the Yahunyens reigned supreme over Aeartha, their grip tightening with each passing century. Mackenas, now but a shadow of its former glory, bore the scars of their tyranny, its people enslaved and its resources plundered to fuel the insatiable hunger of the Yahunyen Empire.

In the vast expanse of the cosmos, the Yahunyens wielded their influence like puppeteers pulling the strings of fate. From the depths of the Yahunyen Empire, they orchestrated a grand symphony of trade that spanned the furthest reaches of the universe, their coffers overflowing with the riches of countless worlds.

At the heart of their inter-universal trade lay the enigmatic and coveted elements sourced from the depths of Aeartha's crust. Among these, the prized Vornilium reigned supreme, its shimmering properties and unparalleled durability making it the cornerstone of the Yahunyens' weapon manufacturing industry. Forged in the fiery crucibles of Mackenas, Vornilium spears were coveted by warlords and conquerors across the cosmos, each ingot a witness to the might of the Yahunyen Empire.

Alongside Vornilium, Ceklonier stood as a beacon of innovation and progress, its unique properties making it the ideal material for the construction of flying ships that traversed the vast expanse of space. From sleek cruisers to towering dreadnoughts, the ships of the Yahunyen fleet were powered by the boundless energy of Ceklonier, their hulls gleaming with the promise of conquest and domination.

But even the mightiest vessels required sustenance to fuel their journeys across the stars, and it was here that Protiskiarmon emerged as the lifeblood of the Yahunyen Empire's interstellar ambitions. Refined from the rarest ores found deep within the bowels of Aeartha, Protiskiarmon served as the primary fuel source for the flying ships that crisscrossed the cosmos, its potent energy reserves propelling them to speeds unmatched by any other known technology.

Through the cruel exploitation of Mackenas and its enslaved populace, the Yahunyens mined these precious resources with ruthless efficiency, their mining operations spanning the breadth of the continent. Each day, countless tons of raw materials were extracted from the land, destined for the vast foundries and refineries that dotted the landscape, where they would be forged into the tools of the Yahunyen Empire's dominance.

And so, from the bustling markets of Yahunya to the shadowy corners of the multiverse, the trade of Aeartha's powerful elements flourished, a beacon of prosperity amidst the darkness that gripped the land. But beneath the facade of wealth and opulence, lies the suffering of the Mackenasians, their cries drowned out by the clink of coins and the whispers of treachery. For in the cruel calculus of the Yahunyen Empire, the price of power was paid in blood and suffering, a truth that echoed through the ages as a grim reminder of the cost of ambition.

On the uncountably multi-colored/vibrant sands that glowed with the sun and moon, near the metropolis of Shiyahval, a fireball streaked across the night sky, heralding the beginning of a new chapter in the annals of Aeartha's history. In its wake, a child of nine summers emerged from the ashes, his eyes alight with a spark of defiance that belied his tender years.

Captured by Yahunyen soldiers and consigned to the depths of slavery in the merciless clutches of the Slave Order of the Government of Yahunya, the boy found himself thrust into a world of darkness and despair. But amidst the chains that bound his body, his spirit remained unbroken, a flickering flame that refused to be extinguished.

It was in the depths of his captivity that the boy, whose name was lost to the winds of time, crossed paths with another soul destined to shape the course of Aeartha's fate. Yesdar, a boy of equal age and indomitable spirit, found himself imprisoned alongside the mysterious newcomer, their fates entwined by the cruel hand of destiny.

As the shadows of oppression loomed large over Mackenas, Yesdar and his newfound companion forged a bond in adversity, their shared struggles binding them together in a brotherhood born of defiance and determination. Together, they would defy the chains of slavery that bound them, their hearts aflame with the promise of a brighter tomorrow.

As the dim light filtered through the cracks in the cold stone walls of their prison cell, Yesdar and the other boy sat in silence, their figures draped in nothing but the tattered remnants of cloth that barely clung to their emaciated frames. Yesdar, with his fair complexion and strikingly beautiful eyes that seemed to reflect the depths of his soul, bore the marks of hardship upon his youthful visage. His long hair cascaded in unkempt waves around his shoulders, a demonstration to the trials he had endured since birth as a slave under the oppressive regime of the Yahunyens.

Beside him, the other boy cut a stark contrast with his mid complexion and equally untamed mane of hair, his eyes gave the glows of eleven different colors, his other features obscured by shadows as he remained silent, his gaze fixed upon some distant horizon that only he could see. Though his expression remained stoic, there was a quiet strength in his demeanor, a resilience that spoke volumes even in the absence of words.

With a sigh, Yesdar began to recount what little he knew of his past, the vague memories of the harsh existence he had endured in servitude. He spoke of a life devoid of joy or comfort, of days spent toiling under the lash of his Yahunyen overlords, his voice tinged with bitterness and resignation.

As his words hung in the air like a heavy fog, the boy's gaze flickered momentarily, a subtle shift in his impassive facade. "Mine too," he finally spoke, his voice soft and measured, betraying a hint of the pain he carried within.

"Oh, so you can speak?" Yesdar exclaimed, a hint of surprise coloring his words as he regarded his enigmatic companion. The boy offered no further response, his gaze steady and inscrutable as he met Yesdar's gaze with an intensity that belied his silence.

Undeterred, Yesdar pressed on, curiosity gnawing at his insides as he sought to unravel the mysteries that shrouded the boy's past. "What's your name?" he asked, his voice gentle yet insistent.

"Griswa," came the reply, the syllables rolling off his tongue with a sense of quiet dignity.

"Hi, Griswa. I'm Yesdar... Yesdar Hawins," Yesdar said with a solemn nod, reaching out a hand in solidarity. Despite the walls that separated them, he felt a kinship with Griswa, a connection that transcended the confines of their bleak surroundings.

As they clasped hands in a silent pledge of camaraderie, Yesdar vowed to be a source of strength in the darkness that surrounded them, to stand by Griswa's side through the trials that lay ahead, and to forge a bond that would endure amidst the ruins of a world torn asunder by the ravages of war. And in that moment, amidst the shadows of their shared captivity, they could see the end of the seas from the beginning itself.

In the morning, under the scorching sun, all prisoners were sent to work, Yesdar's curiosity bubbled like a brook, his words flowing ceaselessly. Griswa, however, remained as silent as the grave, his eyes fixed on the ground, working, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. Yesdar's inquiries danced in the air, unanswered, until the time passed to noon and they reached a crescendo at their makeshift lunch spot beneath a solitary tree. 

"Are you okay, Griswa?" Yesdar's voice broke the silence once more, tinged with concern.

Griswa gave no indication of acknowledgment, his silence enveloping them like a heavy fog.

Unperturbed by the lack of response, Yesdar continued, "You heard about that fireball, right? The one that crashed? And the boy they found? Everyone's talking about it. It's strange, don't you think?"

Still, Griswa offered no reply, his gaze fixed on some distant point.

Growing increasingly frustrated by the one-sided conversation, Yesdar pressed on, "Griswa, why won't you talk? What's going on?"

"Yesdar, have you ever tried talking to a rock? Because right now, I feel like I'm talking to a rock," Griswa finally quipped, his voice carrying a hint of exasperation.

Yesdar chuckled nervously, scratching his head. "Well, I haven't, but I guess it would be just as talkative as you."

The corners of Griswa's mouth twitched, almost imperceptibly, in what could have been construed as a hint of amusement.

Determined to break the silence, Yesdar launched into another barrage of questions. "Okay, okay, let's try this: if you were a fruit, what fruit would you be?"

Griswa's expression remained unchanged, his silence unyielding.

Yesdar's jovial demeanor faltered, concern etching lines on his forehead. "Griswa? Is everything alright?"

And then, like a bolt from the blue, Griswa spoke, his voice cutting through the air with a chilling indifference.

"I killed 70 billion people when I was 6 years old."

Yesdar's eyes widened in shock, his mouth agape. "What?!"

"The fireball boy you're talking about... it's me," Griswa's admission hung in the air, a heavy shroud over their conversation.

Yesdar's mind reeled, his heart racing. "Are you an alien or something?"

Griswa's enigmatic smile held a world of secrets, his eyes gleaming with an unfathomable depth. "I'm not hungry," he replied softly, casting his gaze toward the horizon.

Under the scorching sun, Griswa and Yesdar were conscripted into labor alongside other children, their small frames dwarfed by the towering machines that surrounded them. The oppressive heat bore down upon them, amplifying the grueling nature of their work.

Children as young as seven were not exempt from the harsh realities of Mackenas's labor camps. Lacking the knowledge to operate the intricate machinery, they were relegated to menial tasks, their hands wielding crude hammers and rudimentary tools. The relentless demands of their captors left no room for respite, and failure to meet their quotas resulted in swift punishment.

Separated from their families and thrust into this unforgiving environment, the children bore the weight of uncertainty on their young shoulders. Many had lost all trace of their parents, their whereabouts unknown. Some clung to the hope that they were still alive, while others resigned themselves to the grim possibility of never seeing their loved ones again.

As Griswa and Yesdar worked side by side, their bond strengthened by shared adversity, Yesdar's curiosity continued to gnaw at him like a persistent itch.

"Where did you come from?" Yesdar's voice trembled with uncertainty as he dared to broach the subject. "If you are an alien or something, how is it that you are sent here? Instead of being held captive somewhere else... umm, I don't know where, because I don't have enough knowledge, but these Yahunyens would never send someone like that here."

Griswa's response was barely more than a whisper, lost amidst the clatter of machinery and the shouts of overseers. "They just know. I was a kid wandering around the place, a small boy saved by dumb luck in a natural disaster... They don't know... I am the fireball... They were just late in coming to get me."

"No one wants to be near the fire," Griswa added. "When the fire was gone, they came, and found me there... amidst the ashes and ruins, a solitary figure left to fend for himself. But they never questioned why I was there, or how I survived. Their focus was on containing the disaster, not on a lone child they deemed inconsequential amidst the chaos."

Yesdar's brows furrowed in understanding, a sense of realization dawning upon him. The oversight by the Yahunyens seemed more plausible now, their priorities shifted by the urgency of the situation.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the labor camp, Yesdar's questions remained unanswered, lingering in the air like a specter of uncertainty.

Back in their dimly lit cells, Yesdar tossed and turned, unable to find solace in sleep. His mind raced with thoughts of Griswa, the enigmatic boy who had captured his curiosity and refused to let go. As the hours slipped by, Yesdar remained unslept, his thoughts consumed by the mysteries that surrounded his newfound friend.

And with that, this day drew to a close, leaving behind a palpable sense of unease and anticipation for the tomorrow yet to come.

Glossary and Extra Information:

Aeartha: [EE]+[THA], the vast planet in a different universe similar to Earth from our universe.

Yahunyens: [YA]+[HUN]+[YENZ], the worshippers of Brighter Dark that rule the world.

Mackenas: [MACK]+[NAAS], first a super continent, then a country.

Ozem Nurulis: [OU]+[ZEM]+[NUH]+[ROO]+[LIZ], Greater God, Brighter Dark, the deity followed by The Yahunyens.

Amaulyans: [A]+[MAWL]+[YANZ], first among the two big families of the great continent of Mackenas, part of the royal family.

Shulvris: [SH]+[AL]+[VREES], second among the two big families of the great continent of Mackenas, part of the royal family.

(Back then, Amaulyans and Shulvris were two different families, but after their alliance, they converted themselves into One Royal Family)

Shiyahval: [SHI]+[YAH]+[VAAL], The capital city of Grega, one of the northern states of Mackenas.

Pronunciations:

Griswa: [GRIS]+[WAA]

Yesdar Hawins: [YES]+[DAAR]+[HAA]+[WINZ]

Vornilium: [VOR]+[NEE]+[LI]+[UHM]

Ceklonier: [SEK]+[LO]+[NI]+[AR]

Protiskiarmon: [PRO]+[TIS]+[KY]+[AAR]+[MON]

States of Mackenas:

1. Daegar 

2. Grega

3. Quazan

4. Riveral

5. Solum

6. Zeclonar

7. Vish

8. Pieral

9. Kalondar

World Countries: (Aeartha)

1. Orivalin

2. Yahunya

3. Mercia

4. Domiyahn

5. Aximia

6. Gerwanis

7. Mackenas

Population of Aeartha: 2.63 Trillion approx.

Size of this Universe: 1.17 Trillion Light Years