《TALES OF THE END WAR》


 The Beginning

    The Multiversal War ended a decade ago, but it''s true history remains obscured in shadows.


    The United Universes of America, the Holy Andromeda Empire, and the rest of the allied forces, all fractured into their own factions after the downfall of the monstrous Universal Union. A seemingly endless conflict, the war''s resolution didn¡¯t come with the clear victory that was promised. Beneath the surface, the lines between "good" and "evil" blurred beyond recognition.


    The supposed victors¡ªthe ones hailed as heroes¡ªhave since buried much of what truly transpired during the war. The formation of the Universal Union, the rise of the Alliance, and the very real cost of the war on both sides have been obscured, twisted, and forgotten. The public has been fed a sanitized version of events, but the people who fought, died, and survived hold the true history.


    After the dust settled and the victors paraded their success, I set out to uncover the truth. My goal was simple: to find the survivors of both sides¡ªthe soldiers, the strategists, the civilians caught in the crossfire¡ªand uncover the stories the powers that be didn¡¯t want told. The real history of the Multiversal War was never about just one side¡¯s victory, but about the cost of war itself, the alliances forged in blood, and the ultimate price of peace.


    Below, you will find the accounts of those men and women who lived through it all. Some fought for the Union. Others fought for the Allies. All of them have stories to tell, each shedding light on the dark and forgotten corners of the war.


    _________________________________________


    You know, the war wasn¡¯t the worst thing in the world."


    The old man stood against the back of a weathered farm door, smoking a cigarette¡ªpre-war, judging by the carton it came from. Midstates, a company long forgotten by the now-defunct Union. The acrid smell curled through the air, irritating me as he just stood there, gripping his old shovel without a care in the world.


    "People like to complain that before the war, everything was sunshine and daisies. That life was just fine and dandy."


    He let out a dry chuckle, a thick cloud of smoke slipping from his lips, carried off by the wind.


    "But it wasn¡¯t. Our cities were on fire with protests over ¡®racial inequalities¡¯¡ªwhatever the hell that meant. Famines were a daily occurrence. And the government? They were trying to pivot us into nuclear war just to jump-start the military-industrial complex. And that¡¯s just scratching the surface."


    His gaze turned distant, almost as if he didn¡¯t want to remember. I looked down and saw him clutching his watch, the old, cracked glass reflecting the last rays of the setting sun.


    The old man flicked the cigarette butt onto the dirt path, grinding it under his boot heel. His eyes still wandered, searching for something unseen¡ªan answer, maybe, or the remnants of a life long past. He leaned on his shovel, the tip pressing into the earth with a soft crunch. It felt like he was trying to bury something¡ªsomething that needed to stay buried.


    "You can tell yourself whatever you want," he muttered, his voice low, still carrying the weight of bitterness. "The past wasn¡¯t better. Just different. People always find reasons to tear each other apart. War, famine, inequality¡ªit¡¯s all the same damn monster with a different face."


    I watched him pause, lost in thought, before he gave another dry chuckle, shaking his head as if trying to rid himself of the weight pressing down on him. "But people, they don¡¯t want to hear that. It¡¯s easier to believe in some golden age. Something to aim for. Something to bring back."


    I nodded, unsure of what to say. He had a point, but the way he spoke¡ªit wasn¡¯t just words. It was something deeper, something that hurt. I glanced at the watch in his calloused hand, the leather strap worn smooth over the years. It had seen wars, both external and internal.


    He studied it for a long moment before shaking his head. "People blame the war for everything, but the war wasn¡¯t the cause. It was just the outcome. The result of years of greed, power-hungry leaders, and folks too damn blind to see past their own noses."


    He straightened slightly, his age showing more than ever. "What they don¡¯t tell you, kid, is that nothing changes when the war ends. People keep living in their little bubbles, convinced it¡¯s someone else¡¯s fault. Crime, corruption, poverty¡­ it all stays the same."


    He turned away, looking out at the horizon where the sun had begun to sink, casting long shadows over the land. The air grew thick, heavy. "In the end," he muttered, almost to himself, "we¡¯re all just waiting for the next war, like we don¡¯t know how to live without it."


    I couldn¡¯t find the right words, so I just stood there, watching the last of his cigarette smoke dissolve into the dusk. He had cracked open some dark truth¡ªone that didn¡¯t need to be spoken. It just was. And yet, as much as I hated to admit it, a part of me wondered if he was right.


    He exhaled sharply, breaking the silence. "Anyways, you didn¡¯t come here for an old man¡¯s ramblings. You came to interview me, didn¡¯t you?"


    Snapping back to reality, I straightened my posture. That was the whole reason I had traveled all the way from MegaYork to this forgotten dust pit on the outskirts of our great Holy Nation of the United Universes of America.


    "Yes, Admiral it is the reason as to why I came here-


    A dark chuckle rumbled from his throat. Something in his posture shifted¡ªhis wrinkles smoothed slightly, as if time itself recoiled.


    "Don¡¯t the Allies have something to say about that? They won the war, after all." His voice dripped with amusement, but beneath it lurked something sharp, like a blade hidden in velvet. He tilted his head, scrutinizing me, as if gauging whether I wanted the truth or just another sanitized version of history.


    "History is written by the winners, sir," I said, my voice steady. "And if I don¡¯t get the real history of how the war started, I¡¯ll never understand the full picture. Every history book conveniently leaves things out. Who better to ask than the man who fought and lost?"


    The old man studied me for a long moment. The air between us thickened, charged with something unspoken. Then, with a slow nod, he exhaled through his nose, conceding a silent victory.


    "Then why the hell did you come to interview the man on the losing side?"


    "Because sometimes, that side tells the story that matters more."


    The old man shook his head. Overhead, the lights of a U.U.A. light frigate passed through the sky, its cannons aimed downward, its searchlights sweeping the farm below. Probably on the hunt for remaining Union supporters still launching attacks on the inner cities that id heard about in late night tv, I heard my buddy down at the MNN was doing a story on it, hope the guys are ok. Its massive form cast a shadow that swallowed the land.


    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    "Let¡¯s go inside. If you want to hear the truth, we¡¯d best not talk out in the open."


    "Alright then," I said, tapping the side of his watch. Its old electronics were failing once again. Even in the future, a good watch was hard to find.


    We walked inside, the farmhouse shaking from the ship¡¯s presence. The place was stark, save for a few interesting relics¡ªa sword, a tank tread, an old gas station sign riddled with bullet holes.


    The Commander settled into a creaky wooden chair, rocking slightly as I hurriedly set up my camera on the table. A small beep signaled it was ready.


    "So tell me, Mr. Hale¡ªhow did the Union form begin? As I recall, your planet was the basis for the ¡ª"


    "I know what I did, boy. I can speak for myself."


    I fell silent, watching as he lifted a cup of coffee. The past weighed heavy on his shoulders, but there was something else in his eyes¡ªsomething deeper. Something that needed to be said.


    And so, the real story began.


    _________________________________________


    EX UNION GRAND ADMIRAL HALE May 1st, 109897 A.W (after war) May 1st


    "I don¡¯t remember much about my home universe anymore. Just fragments. The only thing that sticks with me is the ash. Ashes where the United States used to be."


    He paused, his fingers curling around the cigar, lifting it to his lips. A plume of smoke curled upward, thick and heavy, as he exhaled it slowly, lost in thought.


    "I was five years old when the Third World War started. Most of the major cities were gone, and with them, the governments. I think the year was¡­ what was it? 199¡­ no, wait, 1983, that¡¯s right. Something about the Soviets¡ªhad their systems down a false nuclear alarm, I think. But honestly, I don¡¯t even know the details. I was just a kid. All I knew was that everything was burning."


    He blew another cloud of smoke into the air, his gaze distant as he watched the smoke dissolve into the fading light.


    "What little remained of Earth formed what they called the World Government Emergency Commission. Yeah, long-ass name, I know, but it wasn¡¯t even close to some of the military acronyms we had back in the Union, believe me. Anyway, I lost my family to the bombs. They were just¡­ gone. And I was left behind. Just another orphan in the wreckage."


    He gripped the cigar tighter, eyes hardening as he recalled the past.


    "After the war, the National Guard set up orphanages around places like College Station. I was put in one near where my old home used to be, just outside of Houston. But it wasn¡¯t much of a home. Hell, there was no home anymore."


    He paused, eyes flickering with a memory, dark and cold.


    "I remember what it was like, living under them. The guards, the officers¡ªthey didn¡¯t care about us. Water was a luxury, given only to those who could scrape together enough food to feed the higher-ups. They burned settlements to keep the population under control. Said it was to ¡®maintain food supplies.¡¯ But all it did was kill more of us."


    His voice hardened as he spoke, each word carrying the weight of a lifetime of suffering.


    "We got the bare minimum, if we were lucky. If nuclear winter didn¡¯t take us, starvation sure as hell would. Every day was just one more step toward the end."


    He fell silent, the weight of those words settling between us, like a heavy fog. The past was alive in him, gnawing at his bones, and there was nothing to do but breathe it in.


    "But then, out of the darkness¡­ came hope."


    He leaned back, the words heavy on his tongue, as if testing them for truth. His gaze turned distant, pulled back into the years.


    "There were rumors, of course. Whispers of a rebellion forming, something more than the usual disjointed uprisings that had come and gone over the years. The kind that would start, burn bright for a week, maybe two, only to be crushed by the Commission¡¯s soldiers. But this¡­ this was different."


    He paused again, watching the smoke curl from his cigar, the ash glowing as it drifted into the night air.


    "The boy who led them¡ªonly known as ¡®The Director.¡¯ And yes, before you ask, it¡¯s the same man who led the Union through the whole damn Multiversal War. But let me tell you, in those early days, he was different. He wasn¡¯t some power-hungry warlord, some tribe chief looking to take his piece of the pie. No. He was something else entirely. This wasn¡¯t just a ragtag group of settlers, or a bunch of desperate souls throwing stones at a monster that had been terrorizing them for years. This was an army. An army with purpose. And the craziest part? They were actually winning. I saw it with my own eyes when I finally left the orphanage¡ªpeople rallying to their banner, fighting for something they hadn¡¯t had in a long time: hope."


    The old man¡¯s eyes grew sharp, a bitter edge creeping into his voice as he relived the memories, raw and alive.


    "Some people said the Union was just tribes, survivors of the bombs, struggling to break free from the Commission¡¯s chokehold. Others said it was something more. A remnant of the pre-war world¡ªpeople who¡¯d hidden in bunkers, maybe even former government agents. Hell, no one really knew for sure. All we knew was that they were fighting for liberty. For the people of the wasteland. And that, kid, was something worth fighting for."


    He took another long drag from his cigar, eyes unfocused for a moment, as if trying to shake off the weight of it all.


    "They weren¡¯t just fighting to survive. They were fighting for something bigger. Something real. And that, my friend, was a light in the darkness. A reason to keep going. Something I hadn¡¯t seen in a long time."


    His voice dropped, a hint of something darker creeping into his tone.


    "But the Commission, they weren¡¯t having any of it. They¡¯d worked too damn hard to keep their stranglehold on the world. They weren¡¯t about to let some ragtag group of rebels spoil their plans."


    His hands tightened around his cigar, jaw clenched.


    "So, life got harder for us. Harder than it already had been. Where I lived, the restrictions tightened¡ªfood rations, travel bans, constant surveillance. And it was there, in that hell, that ¡®Red Sunday¡¯ happened. You see, people, the ones who had already been pushed to the edge by the Commission, were starting to snap. The pressure was too much. The food was too scarce. The hope was all but gone. And on that Sunday, when it all came to a head... that was when the Union really began to take hold of the people."


    He paused, letting the silence hang in the air, the weight of what was to come pressing down on us both.


    "People were tired. Tired of being told how to live, tired of starving, tired of watching their loved ones disappear. That Sunday wasn¡¯t just another day. It was the spark that ignited the fire. And from that day on, the Union wasn¡¯t just some whisper in the dark. It was a force. A force that couldn¡¯t be ignored."


    His voice grew heavier, each word dragging the weight of a thousand buried memories.


    "It was in my settlement that the Commission decided airstrikes would keep the more rebellious settlements in line. That bombing us into submission would break our spirit, make us fall back in line with their so-called order, Red Sunday it was called and for a good reason too. They targeted key settlements¡ªthose that disobeyed, those that dared to resist. And mine¡­ mine was one of them."


    He let out a slow, bitter exhale, the ember of his cigar flaring in the dim light.


    "I still remember when the bombs fell. It was like the Third World War all over again. One minute, life¡ªstruggling, but still life. The next¡­ fire, rubble, screaming. Everything I had built, everyone I had ever known¡ªgone in an instant. Three rusted-out F-16s and some bureaucrat in an office decided we weren¡¯t worth keeping around. Just like that."


    His hand trembled slightly as he lifted the cigar to his lips, but there was something else in his eyes now. A fire. Deep. Undeniable.


    "I lost my only friends that day. My only family. And as the years have passed, their faces have faded. Time has stolen them from me. All I know is that they were there. That they mattered."


    He shook his head, exhaling a long plume of smoke.


    "That¡¯s the problem with nanobots. They make you live forever¡ªbut at the cost of forgetting."


    He let the thought hang in the air for a moment before continuing, his voice quieter now.


    "The Director found me buried under the rubble. He gave me a choice: join him and ensure atrocities like that never happened again¡­ or go back to my settlement and help rebuild."


    A humorless chuckle escaped his lips.


    "I chose to join him. And for a long time, I never regretted it. Not until the Great War. Not until the Moscow Incident."


    His expression darkened, shadows flickering across his face.


    "The world was horrified. Settlements and nations broke away. The government crumbled while the Union rose. The Commission fell, and before anyone could stop it, the Union¡¯s flag flew over their old crusty capital of good ol Geneva."


    He took another slow drag, his words turning cold.


    "The remnants of the world government were swept up in the tide. And with the stroke of a pen, the World Union was born¡ªThe Director at its head, a ministerial congress below him, the whole illusion of governance. A constitutional monarchy in all but name."


    He exhaled, watching the smoke twist and fade toward the ceiling.


    "They called it a true democracy. The Director¡ªour guiding light."


    Another pull from the cigarette, the ember glowing like a dying star.


    "I should have seen it for what it was." His voice dropped, bitter and raw.


    "It was a damn dictatorship."

 The Cries of Artemos

    RECORDING 23


    After my interview with the admiral, he sent me on my way, directing me to an old acquaintance of his¡ªsomeone who had once led the administration on Atmos, a planet once conquered by the Universal Union. This man had been the mastermind behind the Atremos Rebellions, which had raged throughout the early 2040s, during the Union''s expansion.


    With a sense of both anticipation and uncertainty, I managed to hitch a ride aboard a multiversal freighter traveling toward the newly independent planet of Atremos. Now free from the Union''s grip, Atremos had become a symbol of Peace and resilience amongst the new Multiversal order. I was determined to sit down with the former leader of the resistance and hear firsthand accounts of how the Union¡¯s first contact had unfolded, as well as the brutal path they carved during their early days of multiversal expansion.


    I traveled through the rifts on an old freighter, entering Universe 308, and the journey was long but necessary. The mysteries of the Union¡¯s rise to power were too vast, too complex, to ignore. I hoped that this interview would give me crucial insight into the Universal Union''s machinations, and perhaps, reveal the hidden truths about its true nature.


    As I disembarked on Atmos, a world shaped by both rebellion and peace, I felt the weight of history pressing in. It was time to uncover the story of the Union¡¯s invasion¡ªits first contact with alien worlds¡ªand how their expansion forever altered the course of the multive- huh wait, that''s a little to dramatic, let me try that again


    <hr>


    I arrived at one of Atremos'' local bars, the Lucky Gorabesh, a worn but cozy establishment, the kind where the smell of strong liquor and the hum of low conversations fill the air, one of the few to survive the Allied Counter offensive in the war. Krell was easy to spot¡ªa massive figure, towering above everyone else with his multiple arms and reptilian skin, a true representation of his Atmosian heritage. His presence was commanding, yet there was a certain calm about him as he nursed a drink in one of the quieter corners of the bar.


    Following the admiral''s directions, I approached him and introduced myself. The moment I mentioned my connection to the admiral and explained the purpose of my visit, Krell gave me a long, scrutinizing look. His eyes, yellow and cold, studied me as if weighing my worth before deciding whether I was trustworthy enough for an interview. After a long pause, he finally nodded, signaling for me to take a seat across from him.


    With his permission granted, I knew this interview was going to provide some much-needed answers.


    <hr>


    Krell¡¯s gravelly voice rumbles as he eyes the recorder with a mix of curiosity and skepticism.


    Krell: "So your punny little device is going to record me with that, huh?"


    Interviewer:: "Yep, may be old, but nothing beats a good old recorder, Mr Krell."


    Krell lets out a low grunt, clearly unimpressed.


    Krell: "Hmph. Think whatever you like, human. But nothing beats a good holo-recorder. Talking conversations¡­ that¡¯s from experience in the spy ring. Gor lak bohin radison!"


    The sound of footsteps echoes, heavy and deliberate, reverberating through the floor. The air grows tense for a moment.


    Voicel: "Already? But you already had some!"


    The voice of a worker or companion can be heard, shouting from across the room.


    Voice: "Krell, you¡¯re already 10 beers deep¡ª"


    Krell interrupts with a booming command.


    Krell: "You heard what I said, boy. Now get me MORE!!"


    A brief pause, the clink of a glass, and then silence, as the bartender quickly complies.


    Interviewer: "Alright, now that we¡¯re settled, would you like to begin?"


    Krell takes a deep drag from his cigar, his sharp yellow eyes glinting in the dim light of the bar. The faint murmur of other patrons is barely audible in the background.


    Krell: "You wanna know about the Union and their first take in their multiversal expansions , huh? About how they came, about how we fought... Well, sit tight, human. It¡¯s not a pretty story. And I¡¯m not sure you¡¯re ready for it."


    He leans back in his chair, clearly reflecting on the years that had shaped his life, his fingers lightly tapping the side of his glass. A long, drawn-out silence hangs in the air before he speaks again, his tone shifting into something deeper, more introspective.


    Krell lets out a deep breath, taking a slow sip of his drink before leaning forward, his reptilian fingers drumming lightly on the table.


    Krell: "Well, it was¡­ what? 7,000 years ago when our planet first met the Union. Back then, we were still a humble world¡ªnot even fully unified yet. Nation-states, rivalries, politics¡­ all of that nonsense. But we had just taken our first steps into galactic expansion. And if I remember right, I myself was the Vock Holrboch¡ªor, as you humans would put it, the Vice President¡ªof the most powerful nation at the time: The Republic of Dorckres."


    He lets out a short chuckle, shaking his head as if the memory itself is too distant to feel real anymore.


    Krell: "Anyway, the contact¡­ the contact."


    A brief pause, as if the weight of that moment still lingers in his mind.


    Krell: "When we first came into contact, it was purely by accident, mind you. Back then, every major nation was sending out expeditions, hoping to find new reserves of lithium, plutonium¡ªone of the newly discovered resources at the time, powerful enough to power whole planets. Even oil, though that was more of an old-world relic. Every faction wanted control over these resources, and competition was fierce. Then, one day, one of our vessels¡ªjust a standard mining expedition¡ªstumbled upon something unexpected. A Union ship, doing the same thing we were."


    Krell leans back, his yellow eyes narrowing slightly as he recalls the moment.


    Krell: "And let me tell you, when that news got back to our people, the lab boys? Oh, they were ecstatic. You should have seen ¡®em¡ªrunning around, shouting, celebrating. Finally, we had proof. Proof that we weren¡¯t alone in this ancient, forsaken universe. Or¡­ at least, that¡¯s what the head scientist, Kriel, said. Something poetic like that. You know how scientists are."


    He exhales slowly, watching the faint curls of smoke drift from his cigar before shaking his head.


    Krell: "But looking back, I wonder¡­ did we find them? Or did they find us?"


    For a moment, there¡¯s only silence, the low hum of the bar in the background. Krell¡¯s fingers tighten around his glass.


    Krell: "Because if we had known what was coming¡­ we might¡¯ve left that ship alone."


    He started to look into the distance, a sad gaze in his eyes


    Interviewer: "Eh-hem¡ªanyways, Krell, if I can call you by your first name? I would¡ª"


    Krell: "Ha! We Atmosians pride ourselves on having single-word names! To have a second is an insult!"


    Interviewer: "Ah, right, sorry about that¡­ Anyways, when you first came into contact with the Union, did they immediately try to subjugate your planet? Like the U.U.A., the Andy Empire, and, well, you know the others."


    Krell scoffs, taking a slow sip of his drink before setting the glass down with a thud.


    Krell: "No, not entirely. Those humans and the other¡­ lesser races love to demonize the Union, twisting history to fit their little narratives. You see, when first contact was made, it was actually relatively peaceful. The Union wasn¡¯t trying to play the role of a colonizer¡ªnot at first, anyway. They even put laws in place to protect our planet, our nations, from invasion. And they weren¡¯t from our universe. That was made clear early on. The Union had crossed the veil from another reality, and they claimed they weren¡¯t here to conquer. Just¡­ to exist alongside us."


    Krell leans forward slightly, his expression momentarily softer, contemplative.


    Krell: "Hell, I even met the Director himself during the Meeting of Nations. Back then, I thought he was a kind soul, a visionary leader with a genuine desire for peace."


    A bitter laugh escapes him, the amusement failing to reach his reptilian eyes.


    Krell: "Or at least¡­ that¡¯s what I thought before the Great Invasion."


    A pause. The hum of the bar fills the silence before he continues.


    Krell: "For a time, things were good¡ªespecially for the Republic of Dorckres. We were their number one trading partner. Our economy thrived, our people prospered, and everything seemed stable. That is, until the rumors started."


    He taps his fingers against the table, a rhythmic, almost impatient sound.


    Krell: "Whispers of the Union expanding. Quiet invasions. Unseen battles in distant star systems. At first, we dismissed it¡ªafter all, there was a whole galaxy left unexplored. Why would we worry? But then¡­"


    Krell stops, his fingers tightening into a fist against the table. His voice drops lower, edged with something darker.


    Krell: "Then, the veil was lifted, and we saw the Union for what it truly was."


    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Krell: "One of our spy vessels¡ªan upgraded model, a gift from the Union itself¡ªwas sent to verify the rumors. To the eighty hells, I thought it was a brother¡¯s joke! I mean, the Union was one of our greatest benefactors. Why would they be out there committing genocide? Why would they ever try to take over our beloved planet?"


    He exhales sharply, shaking his head, as if still trying to convince himself of the absurdity of it all.


    Krell: "Then, a couple of weeks later, that ship returned¡ªor what was left of it."


    Krell¡¯s jaw tightens, his fingers tapping once again against the table, but slower this time, more deliberate.


    Krell: "It limped back to one of our outer colonies, burned beyond recognition. Looked like a Great Mother Dragon had ripped it apart with her claws. And this wasn¡¯t just any ship, mind you. It was one of our newest stealth frigates¡ªstate-of-the-art. Nano-defense shields, kinetic railguns, quantum cloaking¡ªthe whole damned ordeal."


    Krell leans back in his seat, exhaling through his nostrils, a low growl rumbling in his throat.


    Krell: "To see it destroyed like that¡ªit sent shockwaves through the entire Republic. The public was told it was an accident, of course. Some kind of ¡®navigation failure¡¯ or ¡®pirate ambush.¡¯ But behind closed doors? Between me and Presigfka¡ªthe President¡ªthe truth was much worse."


    He goes silent for a moment, his claws flexing slightly as if remembering the weight of the classified reports in his hands.


    Krell: "The data logs, the distress recordings¡­ They told a very different story."


    He exhales sharply, his claws tightening into a fist against the table.


    Krell: "That ship¡ªour ship¡ªhad gone deep into uncharted space, following the whispers, the rumors. What it found¡­ gods help us."


    Krell leans forward, his voice dropping to a low growl.


    Krell: "An armada. A Union armada, hanging over some unknown planet like a swarm of locusts. They weren¡¯t just occupying it¡ªthey were erasing it. We hacked into their comms, patched into their encrypted transmissions. The justification?"


    Krell¡¯s expression darkens, his yellow eyes burning with the memory.


    Krell: "''Too violent,'' they said. ''Uncompliant in the ways of peace.''"


    He spits the last word like venom, shaking his head.


    Krell: "I heard it myself. Some Union commander, cold as the void, declaring the planet a lost cause. Not worth integration. Not worth saving. So they burned it. Cities, forests, oceans¡ªit didn¡¯t matter. The orbital bombardment was relentless. They turned an entire civilization into dust because it didn¡¯t fit into their ''grand vision'' of order."


    Krell exhales, rubbing his temple as if trying to ward off the ghosts of the past.


    Krell: "That¡¯s when we knew. The Union wasn¡¯t some benevolent force, some great peacemaker across the stars. No. It was a monster. A beast that smiled in your face while sharpening the knife behind its back. And we? We had been feeding it, welcoming it into our homes like fools."


    Krell: "The day we saw that race erased from existence, vaporized in an instant¡­ That was the day everything changed. It was a wake-up call, one we couldn¡¯t ignore. We knew what was coming. The Union wasn¡¯t done with us. So, in secret, we began to prepare for the inevitable. We started pulling together¡ªnations, tribes, even some of the alien factions we¡¯d once treated as outsiders. Everyone who felt the Union''s boot on their neck came to us, and we built an armada, one that could stand up to the inevitable invasion. We couldn''t afford to wait any longer."


    His voice becomes more intense, the weight of the history burning in each word.


    Krell: "But the Union didn¡¯t miss a beat. They saw it. We tried to keep it quiet, but it didn¡¯t matter. The Director, I¡¯m sure it was him, manipulated the system, twisted the narrative. Our navy build-up, our cutting of ties¡ªsuddenly, we were a threat. And so, the Director moved to neutralize us before we could become a real problem."


    He pauses, eyes narrowed, as the scene shifts in his mind, the haunting realization creeping back.


    Krell: "They didn¡¯t just label us a threat. No, they went further. They wanted to pacify us. They saw the unity we¡¯d formed, the strength we¡¯d built, and they knew that if they didn¡¯t act fast, they might lose everything. So, they removed our protections, one by one, citing our military buildup as a threat to galactic peace. Just another excuse to squeeze the life out of us before we could get too strong."


    The tension in his posture grows as he continues, remembering the critical moments that followed.


    Krell: "But that didn¡¯t stop us. We stood together, all of us. For the first time in centuries, the Atmosians weren¡¯t divided. No nation, no religion, no old divisions¡ªjust a single people, ready to face whatever the Union threw at us. We thought we were prepared. But the truth is, nothing could have prepared us for what came next."


    He takes a deep breath, as though bracing himself for the painful memory.


    Krell: "In just a week, everything went silent. Our outer colonies, where we had sent our most advanced outposts¡ªthey went dark. No comms. No signals. Gone. And our fleets, our 5 million strong ships, they were all stationed above Atremos, waiting for what we thought would be the first wave of an invasion. We were ready. We stood united. We braced for impact, expecting a fight to defend our homes."


    He shakes his head, a bitter smile crossing his lips.


    Krell: "But we didn¡¯t expect him. The Director himself."


    His voice drops, a touch of disbelief still present, as if the memory was too much to fully grasp.


    Krell: "When he arrived, it wasn¡¯t with the fleets we had expected. It was with something far worse. The Director didn¡¯t come to fight¡­ he came to break us."


    Krell: "I was in the bunker with the President when we first got wind of it. At first, it seemed like nothing¡ªjust a small blip on our sensors. We thought it was nothing more than a stray probe or some insignificant object drifting through the void. So we did what any military would do. We sent out a few glorak homing beams and a couple of fighters just to investigate. No big deal, right?"


    His voice lowers, a shadow creeping into his words as the memory plays out.


    Krell: "But then... it happened. That thing¡ªwhatever it was¡ªblew through our ships like they were made of paper. Just like that. In a matter of minutes, we watched our fleet of 50 million vessels get reduced to 30, then 20. It was... incomprehensible. A singular object, moving with such power that it cut through our advanced ships as though they were nothing more than toys."


    He leans forward slightly, as if reliving the horror of that moment, the realization setting in.


    Krell: "Our holo-feed couldn''t believe it. We couldn¡¯t believe it. We thought we were ready. We had prepared for years¡ªbuilt up our fleets, our armada¡ªbut this... this was something else. It was like a god had descended upon us, bringing retribution for some forgotten sin."


    He lets out a breath, the bitterness and disbelief still lingering in his tone.


    Krell: "In the span of just minutes, everything we had worked for¡ªeverything we believed in¡ªwas being torn apart. And then... that thing... it spoke."


    The atmosphere in the bar shifts, Krell''s body tense, his voice taking on a more ominous tone.


    Krell: "That¡¯s when we realized¡ªwe weren''t just fighting an enemy. We were fighting a force beyond anything we could ever understand."


    Krell: "I watched as the thing tore through our fleet, tossing ships like they were nothing. Homing beams, laser turrets, even our ground railguns¡ªthey did nothing. It barely even seemed to notice. And then, in a haze of confusion and fear, the President ordered the satellite to zoom in on the object. What we saw sent chills down my spine."


    He leans in closer, his voice low and steady, as if the memory still weighs on him.


    Krell: "It was a human. A buff one, wearing a suit, sunglasses, and with some sort of breathing apparatus over his mouth. But that¡¯s not what hit me. It was the aura around him. The confidence. And then... I recognized him. It was the Director. The same man I¡¯d met in those first contact meetings all those years ago. Back then, he seemed like a diplomat¡ªcalm, composed, even kind. But now?"


    He shakes his head slowly, a bitter edge to his tone.


    Krell: "Now, he was a god in a suit. I knew in that moment that we were finished. He picked up a few of our carriers and threw them at the capitals of nations around our beloved planetl, reducing half of our major cities to rubble. It was like watching a child destroy his toys, and we were nothing more than pieces on the floor."


    The weight of the memory hangs in the air as Krell takes another drink. His eyes darken as he continues.


    Krell: "Then, he came to the bunker. The President and I were there, the last line of defense. And when the Director stepped in, I still remember it like it was yesterday. He looked at us and said¡ª"


    He mimics the Director¡¯s calm, chilling tone, his voice colder than before.


    Krell: "¡®Ah, Mr. President, Vice President, it¡¯s nice to see you again. Would you please surrender? I would hate to have a blotch on my suit and cause more bloodshed.¡¯"


    Krell¡¯s face hardens, recalling the President¡¯s defiant response.


    Krell: "The President, of course, barked back. He swore he would never submit. And then... in the blink of an eye, the Director punched him¡ªinto atoms. Vaporized, right in front of me. And then, he turned to me. Asked me the same thing. ¡®And you?¡¯"


    He lets out a long, heavy breath, the weight of the moment still hanging in his voice.


    Krell: "I surrendered. Not just for myself, but for the whole planet. What else could I do? The President was gone, and we were already defeated. And just like that... the Union took everything. The rest is history."


    Krell¡¯s voice grows even quieter as he reflects on the destruction and the weight of his choices.


    Krell: "When the Director did what he did, I... I thought it would end there. That once we surrendered, it would be over. I couldn¡¯t have been more wrong."


    He pauses for a long moment, his yellow eyes staring into the empty space, as though reliving those horrifying days.


    Krell: "After the President was gone, the rest of us¡ªthose who were still alive¡ªwe were left to watch as the Union swept through our cities. Half of our major capitals turned to ash in a matter of hours. I stood there in the bunker, watching the screens flash with destruction after destruction... and I felt the blood of millions on my hands."


    He clenches his fists tightly, his claws digging into the table as his voice shakes with emotion.


    Krell: "It wasn¡¯t just the fleet that fell. No. It was the cities, the families, the people who¡¯d fought so hard for freedom. They were caught in the crossfire. They didn¡¯t deserve to die like that. We didn''t deserve to be crushed under the weight of someone else''s ambition. And yet¡­ here we were."


    He exhales sharply, his eyes becoming distant as the ghosts of the past haunt him.


    Krell: "I remember the cries. The screams of civilians, of soldiers who had no chance. Their homes¡ªdestroyed. The survivors¡ªscattered, hunted down, and forced to live under the Union¡¯s boot. How many millions? How many lives were lost because we¡ªbecause I¡ªthought we could stand up to the Union?"


    Krell¡¯s tone hardens, but the bitterness in his voice is now mixed with an undeniable sense of guilt.


    Krell: "I was supposed to lead. I was supposed to protect my people, to guide them through the storm. But I failed them. And now, as I sit here, I can still hear their voices, calling out in the night. Their blood stains my hands. I made the choice to surrender, yes... but in that moment, I sealed the fate of millions."


    He runs his claws through his reptilian scales, his eyes never leaving the table.


    Krell: "It wasn¡¯t just the fall of a planet. It was the fall of everything we stood for. And every time I look back on those days, I know¡ªdeep down¡ªthat I could have fought harder. I should have fought harder. But instead... I gave in. I let the Union win."


    A silence falls between us. The weight of the truth hangs heavy, as if the very air around us has thickened with the burden Krell carries.


    Krell: "And so, here I am¡ªalive, still breathing, while the ashes of my people scatter across the stars. My guilt is all I have left. For every lost soul, for every life extinguished in that war¡­ I live with it. Every. Single. Day."


    He takes another deep drag from his cigar, the bitter taste of regret lingering on his tongue.


    Krell: "But I¡¯ll never forget. Not the faces of the fallen, not the screams in the streets. And maybe¡­ maybe that¡¯s all I have left to offer them. My guilt. And the truth. Because it¡¯s not just the Director who¡¯s to blame for what happened. It¡¯s us. The ones who surrendered. The ones who didn¡¯t see the danger until it was too late."


    His voice grows quieter now, as if he¡¯s speaking more to himself than to me.


    Krell: "The Union didn¡¯t just destroy our world¡ªthey destroyed our spirit. And after that, all we could do was try to survive under their control. But at what cost?"


    He falls silent, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air.

 Pages of History

    World Union (1999 - 2078)


    The World Union was a totalitarian interstellar empire that emerged following the Liberation Wars against the World Government Emergency Commission. Established in 1999 by the enigmatic figure known as The Director, the World Union sought to create an everlasting peace by eliminating all sources of societal division¡ªat any cost.


    <h2>Formation and Early Years</h2>


    After the collapse of the Commission, the Director assumed control under the guise of democracy, consolidating power through sweeping reforms that outlawed religion, free speech, and political dissent. The justification was simple: war and suffering stemmed from ideological conflict, and by erasing such differences, humanity could be united under a single, harmonious rule.


    This period, known as the Pax Unionis, saw rapid technological and social advancements. Crime rates plummeted, economies flourished, and scientific progress surged. However, beneath the surface, fear and absolute obedience became the pillars of society. The government utilized mass surveillance, AI-driven social monitoring, and rigid class stratification to maintain control.


    <h2>Expansion and the Rise of the Empire</h2>


    From 2010 to 2078, the World Union expanded aggressively, conquering neighboring planets and entire star systems. What began as Earth''s dominion over its solar system quickly grew into a vast, intergalactic empire spanning multiple universes. The Union¡¯s military¡ªS.T.A.C.C¡ªenforced compliance with unquestioning brutality.


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Citizens of the World Union lived under an enforced "utopia," where every action, belief, and even thought was dictated by the state. While those loyal to the regime lived in privileged opulence, the common people lived in fear, ensuring their compliance lest they disappear into re-education facilities or worse.


    <h2>The Universal Union (2078 - ___C_O_R_U_P_T_E_D_ INFO_)</h2>


    By 2078, the World Union had reached a tipping point. Instead of collapsing under rebellion, it evolved, expanding its grasp beyond the known universe. The Director¡ªnow worshiped as an immortal figure¡ªdeclared the formation of the Universal Union, a new order that stretched across multiple realities, each governed under his supreme rule.


    The Capital ¨C Earth¡¯s New Role


    Once the heart of humanity, Earth was stripped of its significance as a homeworld and rebranded simply as The Capital¡ªa heavily fortified bureaucratic region housing the Director¡¯s elite and serving as the nerve center of the multiverse. While Earth was once the foundation of the Union¡¯s ideals, it became a world of towering citadels, endless factories, and the ultimate symbol of absolute control and peace.


    Expansion into the Multiverse


    With advanced dimensional rift technology, the Universal Union established control over parallel universes, integrating countless civilizations into its rigid hierarchy. Entire realities were bent to its will, their inhabitants either assimilated or erased.


    The S.T.A.C.C, the most feared military force in existence, became responsible for enforcing obedience across infinite worlds, ensuring that no timeline, no species, and no ideology could ever challenge the Universal Union¡¯s reign.