Chapter 4: The Old Space Cop

  The principal's voice carried a firm authority as he addressed the gathered parents. "Racism has no place in this academy. Every student, regardless of their origins, deserves respect. This institution was built on the principles of unity and learning. I expect better from all of you."

  As the meeting concluded, Jason placed a firm hand on Warren’s shoulder, leading him out of the principal’s office. The academy's hallways stretched with bioengineered architecture—glowing vines climbed the walls, and energy-infused tiles hummed underfoot. The scent of Verdalian flora filled the air, but despite the beauty, tension lingered between father and son.

  Jason's voice was calm but edged with disappointment. "Warren, I need to understand why you let this escalate. I know you were protecting Max, but fighting isn’t always the answer. You have to learn when to use your words."

  Warren clenched his jaw, crossing his arms. "Dad, I couldn’t just stand there and watch Skull humiliate Max. You weren’t there! That guy wasn’t going to stop. Sometimes, words aren’t enough."

  Tina stepped forward, her expression a mix of concern and understanding. "We know you meant well, Warren, but restraint is important. There are better ways to handle situations like these."

  Max stood silently between them, fists tightening. The principal’s words echoed in his mind—a retired space cop, defeated by words alone. He felt useless. Powerless. Why am I so weak?

  Jason sighed, rubbing his temples. "I get it. But this world is already on the brink of chaos. There are bigger battles ahead, Warren. You have to be smart about the fights you choose."

  After a moment, Jason’s tone shifted. "There’s something I need to tell you all. In four days, I’ll be leaving on a relief mission. But first, in two days, I have to travel to the capital, Verlan, to meet with King Jim and organize the crew for the operation."

  Tina’s face tightened with worry. "That soon? Jason, are you sure it’s safe? The Vir Empire has been lurking around the Liliput Star System. If they interfere—"

  "I know, Tina." Jason reached for her hand, his voice steady yet gentle. "But if we don’t help, entire planets will starve. This is bigger than politics. It’s about saving lives."

  Warren’s gaze hardened. "And you’re leading this mission?"

  Jason nodded. "Yes. That’s why you need to understand responsibility. You’re graduating this year, Warren. If you really want to join the Space Cops, you need to learn how to handle situations—not just with strength, but with wisdom."

  Tina squeezed Jason’s hand, worry still evident in her emerald-green eyes. "Just… be careful."

  Jason smiled softly, placing a reassuring hand on her cheek. "I always am."

  Max looked up at his father, admiration and doubt swirling in his mind. What am I supposed to do? He wasn’t strong like Warren. He wasn’t brave like Jason. He was just… Max. And that thought scared him more than anything.

  As they stepped out of the academy, Warren stretched. "Okay, can we leave now?"

  Jason shook his head. "No, we need to meet Max's new mentor first."

  Tina nodded as they approached the Wishey family. Rure, still visibly wounded from his fight with Skull, sat on the academy steps, his expression filled with regret. As Max neared, Rure looked down, fists clenched. "Max... I'm sorry. I couldn’t protect you."

  Max was surprised. He had always seen Rure as the strong, confident one, but now, he saw frustration. Before he could respond, Tina and the Wishey parents greeted each other warmly.

  Rure took a deep breath, his gaze filled with determination. "I swear, I’ll become strong enough to protect everyone! Next time, no one will have to suffer like this."

  Jason, observing quietly, nodded in approval. Tina smiled, while Warren smirked.

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  Max, however, shook his head and placed a hand on Rure’s shoulder. "Rure, thanks... but you don’t need to protect me all the time. I still don’t know what my goal is, but I do know this—next time, I’ll be strong enough to assist you. I’ll protect myself… and maybe even others."

  Warren chuckled, easing the tension. Max scratched his head and turned to the group. "So, can we go to the Great Tree of Heavens now?"

  Rure nodded, but before they could set off, his parents stopped him. "Not today, young man," his father said with a warm smile. "You're injured and need rest."

  At that moment, another voice joined them. "May I join?"

  They turned to see Jimmy arriving with his usual bright grin. As their families exchanged words, a slow, deliberate sound echoed through the academy grounds—footsteps accompanied by the tapping of a wooden stick.

  A tall, battle-worn Verdalian warrior approached. His scarred features bore the weight of countless battles, and his left leg was injured, forcing him to rely on a cane. Despite his age, his presence was undeniable—wisdom sharpened his gaze, his aura commanding respect.

  At ninety-five years old, he was a living legend. As he reached them, his gaze settled on Max.

  "So, you must be the human boy I've heard about."

  Meanwhile: The Liliput Star System

  Far beyond Verdalia, twenty light-years away, the planet Zelkaris lay crushed under extreme poverty. Above its crumbling cities, ten imperial warships of the Vir Empire loomed.

  Inside the largest vessel, the high-tech war room buzzed with activity. Holographic screens floated midair, displaying planetary data, military strategies, and fleet formations. The centerpiece was a massive circular hologram, flickering with the image of Bright Adam, the right hand of Emperor Joseph.

  At 222 years old, Bright Adam was a war relic. His long white hair was tied back in a warrior’s knot, his deep golden eyes carried the wisdom of centuries, and his scarred, muscular frame spoke of battles that shaped galactic history. Draped in the royal dark armor of the Adam Clan, his hand rested on the hilt of his colossal black-bladed sword.

  Before him, Arthur stood in the flesh—a 26-year-old force of nature, leader of the Commander 30 Association. His sharp blue eyes studied the reports, his imperial uniform crisp, his spear Astra strapped to his back.

  Bright Adam’s voice cut through the silence. "Report."

  Arthur met his gaze. "The situation on Zelkaris worsens by the hour. Famine has crippled the population. If we wait, the resistance will gain outside support."

  Bright Adam’s expression remained unreadable. "Let them suffer. Desperation breeds compliance. We act when their will to fight is shattered."

  Arthur’s jaw tightened. "That’s a dangerous gamble. If the rebellion finds an ally, the sector could destabilize."

  Bright Adam leaned forward. "Then we remind them why the Vir Empire is feared."

  Arthur exhaled. He knew better than to argue. The hologram flickered, and Bright Adam vanished

  At the heart of Ayodh, in the towering Rebellion Command Center, sat Robinson Dreuewage, a living legend.

  At 192 years old, Robinson was far from a frail elder. His towering pink-skinned figure exuded both wisdom and raw power. Despite his age, his body remained at its peak, his muscular frame wrapped in a high-tech combat robe, adorned with insignias from battles long past. His piercing silver eyes scanned the holographic reports on his desk, his mind calculating a thousand possibilities at once.

  Once, he had been the master of Helius, the leader of the Dharma Army, and even a Rebellion King himself—but now, he stood as the head of the Rammanites, overseeing the fight against oppression.

  As he leaned back in his chair, a sudden beep echoed through the room. His private communicator lit up, displaying the incoming transmission.

  It was from the current Rebellion King—Peace.

  With a tap of his finger, the hologram materialized, revealing a hooded figure bathed in the dim blue glow of the transmission. Peace, the highest authority of the rebellion, spoke in a calm but urgent voice.

  "Robinson, we have a crisis."

  Robinson’s eyes narrowed. "Go on."

  "Bright Adam has launched an attack on Planet Portue. If this goes unchecked, the entire system could collapse under Vir’s rule."

  A moment of silence. Then Robinson exhaled, already understanding the weight of the situation.

  "You could call upon the Space Cops," Robinson said, his deep voice carrying an edge of curiosity. "They still have their strongest warrior—Ronaldo, the Star of the Galaxies. His strength alone could turn the tide."

  Peace hesitated before replying. "I could. But I believe in you, Lord Robinson. Even at your age, you remain among the highest-class warriors—S+ rank—alongside only a select few in the entire universe. If there's anyone who can stop Bright Adam… it's you."

  Robinson closed his eyes briefly, then gave a small, knowing smirk. "Rebellion King, Roger that. I'll handle it."

  The call ended. A heavy silence filled the room. Robinson slowly stood up, stretching his battle-worn yet unbreakable body. His muscles tensed in anticipation, as if they, too, remembered the past.

  Bright Adam… it's been decades.

  They had clashed before, two titans from an era long past. Their battles had shaped galaxies, rewritten history, and had nearly shattered the very foundation of the Vir Empire.

  And now, the universe would witness their legendary rivalry once again.

  As Robinson turned toward the window, gazing at the stars, his expression hardened.

  The time had come