The Eternal Conqueror

Chapter 6: Echoes of Vows

Orion stood motionless, fighting to keep his composure, the echo of Zeny's laughter still resonating in his mind, a haunting reminder of what had been lost.

"Fall back," he ordered quietly, his voice steady but strained. "Tell the fleet to retreat back to Blackium. Regroup. We'll... figure out our next move."

The Blackium forces began their reluctant withdrawal, drifting back through the vast emptiness with the weight of defeat pressing on their spirits. As the remnants of the fleet retreated, the image of Omega's destruction burned in their minds, a bitter reminder of the battle lost.

Orion clenched his fists at his sides, the knuckles turning white. "Claro..." he whispered, the name slipping from his lips with a venom that cut through the silence around him. "You took everything. And for that... I swear, you'll pay."

On Blackium, the planet's land forces had spread across twelve sectors, each commanded by skilled generals who were prepared to defend their home at any cost. Standing among his troops, General Kaelor's eyes burned with determination. His twin swords, known for cutting down even the most formidable foes, he was the head of Sector 6. The sky above began to fill with the enemy fleet as fighters descended in erratic patterns, dodging Blackium's anti-aircraft fire and intercepting fighters. The battle had descended from the skies, and now the ground would be the final line.

Clad in dark matter armor, the Blackium troops stood poised, a formidable force ready for the impending battle. Each soldier held an assault laser rifle, its low hum filling the air with a quiet intensity. A long, razor-edged dagger was strapped to their side, prepared for the close-quarters combat that awaited them.

At the forefront stood the Gravemasters, Blackium's elite warriors. Unlike the regular soldiers armed with rifles, these fighters bore sleek, curved dark-matter swords. Masters of gravity manipulation, they were Blackium's finest, the most skilled, feared, and disciplined combatants on the planet. With a mere thought, they could unleash a gravitational pulse strong enough to shatter a skyscraper or drag a fighter jet from the sky.

Kaelor took a deep breath, feeling the tension of his troops behind him, their anticipation palpable. The Starborn think they can crush us from above, he thought, his gaze narrowing as the battle grew closer, but they've yet to feel the strength of Blackium on its own ground.

On the opposite side of the battlefield, Tron knelt on the ground, his face hard and resolute, masking the sorrow that gripped his heart. Zeny had been more than a comrade; she'd been one of his closest friends, a constant presence since their childhood days. Memories flooded his mind, taking him back to simpler times when life had been filled with laughter, rivalry, and endless bickering over the smallest things.

He could almost see it, as clear as if it were happening right there: he was back in high school, walking with Orion to the cafeteria. Three boys had suddenly appeared, one of them calling Orion's name with a tone of authority that made both of them freeze. Tron remembered the irritation that had flared up in him, stepping forward, fists clenched. "Leave us alone," he'd snapped, brimming with the frustration that always rose when others tried to mess with them.

But Orion, ever the calm in the storm, had rested a hand on his shoulder and nodded at the boys. "Yes, I'm Orion," he had replied, his demeanor disarming.

The boys exchanged glances. "The queen is calling you. Come with us."

"What? What queen?" Orion's brow had furrowed in confusion. Tron couldn't help but burst out laughing. "He's definitely talking about that idiot, Zeny!"

At that moment, Zeny had appeared behind them, her usual scowl in place. "Who did you just call an idiot?" she demanded, her eyes narrowing in irritation. Tron had rolled his eyes, still laughing.