Chapter 12 : “The words of a tree!!”

  The night had fallen soft over Alag, wrapping the village in a quiet stillness. Max and Rure walked along the old stone path, their footsteps light under the silver gaze of Verdalia’s twin moons. The training had ended, but Max’s thoughts hadn’t. Something clung to his mind—vivid, unsettling.

  That vision.

  He hadn’t told Rure the full truth. Not yet. How could he? Even now, the memory of it stirred something ancient in his chest.

  A tree, vast and weightless, floating in the void of space. Its roots reached into nothingness, its branches glowed with constellations. Before it, two figures: one radiant in blinding white, the other cloaked in endless shadow. In between them… something unclear. A presence. A power.

  It didn’t feel like a dream.

  “Max,” Rure called, his voice easygoing but edged with concern, “you’ve been acting strange since the temple. Are you okay?”

  Max nodded, though slowly. “I saw something. In the chamber. Like a vision. But different. I don’t think it was from me.”

  Rure tilted his head. “What kind of vision?”

  Max opened his mouth, unsure how to explain—then it happened.

  A wind, colder than any night breeze, brushed past him. Not strong—but sharp. Like it carried something unnatural. His body froze.

  Then came the voice.

  Soft. Distant. Female. And ancient.

  It wasn’t sound, not really—it echoed inside his mind.

  A language he didn’t know, but somehow… understood.

  ??? ?????? ?????????? ????? ??????? ????????When the mirror is shattered, the serpent sheds tears.

  ????????????? ?????? ???????????The dual-born bearing three forms shall awaken.

  ??? ??????? ????????????????? ??????,If the light bows before the face veiled as justice,

  ???????? ????????? ????????? ?????????Then the new era shall be shrouded in darkness.

  Max stopped mid-step, eyes wide.

  The words lingered, etched into his soul like carved stone.

  “Did you hear that?” he asked, looking sharply at Rure.

  “Hear what?” Rure looked around, brow furrowed.

  Max stared into the empty night. “A voice. It said… something strange. Like a prophecy. I think… it was talking to me.”

  Rure looked half-spooked, half-intrigued. “Dude… are you sure you’re not just tired?”

  Max didn’t answer.

  His eyes turned toward the distant silhouette of the Great Tree of Heavens, rising above the village like a guardian under moonlight.

  Whatever spoke to him—it wasn’t done.

  And whatever was coming, it was closer than anyone knew.

  The night wrapped around the quiet roads of Alag like a soft blanket. Max and Rure walked side by side, the cool breeze brushing against their faces. Though the village was peaceful under the dual moonlight, Max’s mind was far from calm.

  He hadn’t spoken much since the eerie voice earlier. His thoughts swirled around the vision he’d seen during training—the floating cosmic tree, the radiant figure of light, the looming silhouette in shadow, and now… the cryptic Sanskrit message that echoed like a prophecy. It chilled him.

  Rure, walking silently beside him, finally broke the silence. “Hey,” he said gently, “I’ve been doing some reading… you know, since we’re heading to Verlan soon. I came across something pretty wild.”

  Max blinked, as if waking from a trance. “Verlan?” he repeated, his tone still distant.

  Rure nodded. “Yeah. You know about Universal War 2, right? The one from 37 years ago. But not many know the full story of Universal War 1. That one happened long before we were born… and Verdalia played a very different role back then.”

  Max turned his head, curious now. “Different how?”

  “Well,” Rure continued, “Verdalia used to be insanely powerful. Like, galaxy-shaking powerful. They had fifteen upper S-class warriors—each one a legend. Ancient Verdalian martial skills, war arts that could bend energy, even rumors of manipulating planetary fields.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Max raised his eyebrows. “Fifteen S-class warriors? That’s… ridiculous.”

  “Exactly,” Rure said. “They weren’t just defending their land. They were conquering. Their power threatened the balance of the universe.”

  “So… what happened?”

  “The Republic of Saturnite stepped in,” Rure said, his tone growing serious. “Back then, they were already a democratic organization ruling over twenty-two galaxies. The president at the time—Jhon Blackgold, who was also the master of Robinson Drewage—made a terrifying decision. He authorized the use of a powerful, classified weapon.”

  Max’s eyes widened. “They used it on Verdalia?”

  “Not the whole planet,” Rure replied. “Just the heart of their empire. The city of Verlan. It was the capital back then. When the weapon dropped… everything changed. Verlan was erased from the map.”

  Max exhaled slowly, taking that in.

  Rure continued, “After the devastation, Verdalia lost its ambition for conquest. The royal family stepped down from military expansion and turned toward peace and agriculture. They moved governance to the region called Veythar, which eventually earned the alternate name Verlan, in memory of the lost city.”

  Max looked up at the night sky, the moons casting a faint glow on the path ahead. “So… the city we’re visiting… it’s just the remains of what used to be.”

  “Exactly,” Rure said. “What’s left of one of the most powerful cities the universe ever knew.”

  As the cool night deepened over Alag, Max and Rure reached the end of the path where they usually split toward their respective homes.

  "See you tomorrow," Rure said, stretching his arms behind his head.

  Max gave a small nod. “Yeah. Long day.”

  But just as they turned to leave, the ground beneath them trembled—gently at first, then violently. A pulse of energy, bright and blinding, surged across the night sky.

  One golden.One silver.

  Both beams exploded out of the horizon from the direction of the Great Tree, their light splitting the sky like dawn and dusk fighting for control. A deep rumble followed, shaking windows and setting off alarms across Alag.

  Max and Rure staggered, struggling to keep their balance as the earth beneath them trembled. Their eyes remained fixed on the celestial clash of lights. For a few brief seconds, it felt like two great warriors were battling—beings far beyond their understanding.

  And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the light vanished. The tremors ceased. Only silence remained.

  The stillness didn’t last.

  Sirens howled in the distance. From several roads, Alag’s patrol units roared in—sleek, hover-capable vehicles brimming with flashing lights and humming with energy. Armed officers stepped out with scanners, gear, and focused urgency.

  One of the officers spotted the two teens standing dumbfounded.

  “Wait… that’s Max Amberdunk,” he murmured to his partner, lowering his blaster. “And the other one’s Rure—trained under Joe.”

  Without hesitation, the officer approached them. “You two shouldn’t be here. Come on, we’ll drop you off.”

  Max and Rure exchanged a glance, still too stunned to speak, and nodded.

  The vehicle hummed quietly as it glided over the streets. Soon, they arrived at the Amberdunk residence. As the patrol hovered near the entrance, the door swung open. Tina and Warren stepped out, eyes wide and concerned.

  “Max!” Tina called out, rushing forward.

  “Are you alright?” Warren asked, scanning the sky nervously. “What was that shockwave?!”

  The officer stepped out of the vehicle. “We’re still investigating. It came from a field close to the Great Tree. We don’t know what caused it, but the force levels were… extreme.”

  Tina’s eyes widened. “That’s too close.”

  The officer gave her a calm nod. “Don’t worry, ma’am. We’ve increased patrols around the area. Everything is under control. Even with Jason out on mission, we’ve got this covered.”

  Max stepped out of the vehicle and turned to Rure and the officer. “Thanks for the ride.”

  Rure gave him a half-smile. “Crazy night, huh?”

  The officer simply nodded before speeding off, carrying Rure down the next road toward his home.

  Max stood by the doorstep, the image of the silver and gold energies still vivid in his mind.

  Tina placed a hand on his shoulder. “Come in, sweetheart.”

  As the door closed behind him, Max couldn’t shake the feeling that something far bigger than all of them had just been set into motion.

  The vastness of space loomed around the Verdalian fleet, thirty grand ships gliding through the dead silence of the cosmos. Within the lead vessel, Jason Amberdunk stood near the observation deck, his eyes lost in the endless black stitched with starlight. The Heaven Bridge—an elusive, navigable path through the Dead Zone—stretched before them like a divine highway. Its edges shimmered faintly, marked by pockets of gravitational anomalies, collapsed stars, drifting ruins of ancient planets, and glistening debris from forgotten battles.

  Jason’s gaze remained distant. Tom’s voice echoed in his mind, haunting and cryptic:

  "I guess this is the time that man warned us about. Did you see them?"

  Jason clenched his hands behind his back. “Them…” he whispered to himself. “If Tom’s words are right, something far beyond my understanding is stirring.”

  Outside, the ships cut through space faster than light, the engines humming in perfect harmony. The fleet had traveled over 16 light-years since entering the Heaven Bridge—a feat few dared to attempt, let alone accomplish in a single day.

  The captain, a seasoned officer in a navy-blue uniform trimmed with silver, approached Jason. “Sir,” he said with admiration in his voice, “we’ve reached the midpoint of the Heaven Bridge. We’re making incredible time.”

  Jason gave a faint smile, still partly adrift in thought. “It’s beautiful,” he said, looking out through the viewport. The scene ahead was surreal—a narrow safe corridor cutting through chaos. On either side, remnants of celestial bodies floated eerily, casting fractured light into the bridge’s path.

  The captain nodded. “Yes, sir. Eight quadrants… each separated by stretches of collapsed stars and fractured space-time. We’re in the fourth quadrant now. We should enter the fifth in a few hours.”

  The navigator, a sharp-eyed woman with her hair tied into a short, practical braid, turned from her console. “At this pace, we’ll reach the Vokar-17 galaxy and the Lilliput star system within another 8 light-years, sir.”

  Jason turned to her, the weight in his expression replaced briefly by appreciation. “Well done, Lieutenant.”

  She smiled and replied modestly, “No mention, Commander. It’s my duty.”

  Jason returned his gaze to the window, the stars shimmering with silent warnings.

  “Let the gods be with us,” he muttered under his breath.

  The captain turned to him. “Sir?”

  Jason shook his head. “Nothing. Just… a thought.”

  They continued their journey, deeper into the mystery, deeper into the storm.