Mercury, the closest planet to the sun.
Once thought to be nothing more than a scorched wasteland of rock and fire… Now, thanks to the magic stone buried inside of the core, it had become a thriving stronghold. The magic stone's power created a powerful barrier around the planet, shielding it from the sun's searing wrath and allowing life to take root.
But unlike the shimmering spires of Mars or the remnants of Earth's natural beauty, Mercury bore the marks of relentless industry. Its cities weren't tall or elegant—they were mechanical beasts of brass and steel, belching steam and smoke into the hazy skies. Thick iron pipes coiled like serpents around buildings, gears spun tirelessly on rooftops, and factory chimneys pierced the sky like jagged fingers. It looked rough. Gritty. Tired.
And yet, beneath its soot-streaked exterior lay the finest weapon manufacturing network in the solar system—second only to Earth itself.
This was not a place of dreams. It was a place of survival.
Inside the grand halls of Mercury's Capital Citadel Parliament, the air was heavy—not with steam, but with the weight of decisions that could shape the next phase of the war.
Takashima walked slowly, the dull thud of his boots echoing off the copper-lined walls. Deep bags had formed under his eyes—each one a mark of sleepless nights and reports filled with casualty numbers, broken machinery, and relocation requests. In one hand, he clutched a hollow tablet glowing faintly with Mars's evacuation data.
At his side floated a hover chair, carrying none other than Vayne—the ever-luxurious strategist of the Mars High Council. A steaming porcelain cup rested between his fingers as a maid gently massaged his shoulders. His white fur cloak draped over the chair like royalty. Beside him, Lumis walked in near silence, his long coat flowing behind him with each step.
"Hmph," Vayne muttered, taking a slow sip. "It's not the same as Martian brew, but I suppose it'll do."
His eyes flicked toward Takashima, whose silence had become heavy.
"Takashima… my friend, it looks to me you could use some tea," Vayne said, the edge of a grin tugging at his lips.
Takashima didn't look up from his tablet. "I could use a lot of things."
Vayne raised an eyebrow. "A vacation, perhaps?"
Lumis let out a quiet snort but said nothing.
Takashima finally stopped walking. His thumb hovered over a flashing name on the screen.
"Over seventy thousand confirmed refugees. Mars is gone. And we still don't know how many we lost in the collapse. We're running out of supplies, out of safe zones, out of time…"
He glanced back, eyes burning with frustration.
"…and you're drinking tea."
Vayne smiled without offense.
He leaned forward slightly, the humor in his tone fading.
"If we panic now, Mercury will fall too. And if Mercury falls… then it's over. Saturn won't lift a finger—too busy counting credits behind their luxury walls."
Takashima stared at him for a moment, then looked away with a sigh.
"…What do we do with the survivors?"
Vayne's smile faded completely.
And in that moment, even the hum of the citadel felt distant. The cold truth had settled in.
Everything would depend on what came next.
"That's for Parliament to decide."
As they approached the massive doors of the council room, Vayne gave a lazy wave to dismiss his maid. The hover chair halted, and he rose to his feet, his fur-lined cloak draping behind him like a banner of calm arrogance.
Takashima walked beside him, silent, focused. Lumis followed, his coat swaying with each step as the trio entered the chamber.
Inside, the Council Hall was a circular coliseum of polished iron and bronze, built high into the upper district of Mercury's Capital Citadel. Rows of elevated seats surrounded them—each throne-like chair occupied by a representative cloaked in formality and power.
The council was clearly divided.
On one side, the Working-Class Representatives, made up mostly of demi-humans—Demi-Wolves, Demi-Cats, and other beastfolk who powered the factories and forges of Mercury.
On the other side, the Sovereign's Representatives, composed of politicians and wealthy industrial heads—mutants and humans alike—many of whom had never stepped foot in a factory.
Between them stood the Army Representatives, seated in strict formation. At their center, directly facing the podium, sat the General of the Mercury Armed Forces—a grizzled human known for his unyielding stare and spotless uniform.
The tension in the air was heavy, like steam before a burst valve.
Vayne stepped forward toward the podium without hesitation, the echo of his polished boots filling the chamber.
All eyes locked onto him.
He smiled.
As the murmurs died down, the man seated at the center of the highest platform leaned forward. His uniform was sharp, draped with medals and black-and-gold shoulder crests that marked his authority. The room quieted further under the weight of his voice.
"Alaric Vayne. Rintarou Takashima."
His tone was heavy, but not unkind.
"Two of the most decorated soldiers from the Pirate War. Veterans of the unit that purged the last of the Corsair fleets. I expected politicians. Instead, I get warriors."
The man's sharp eyes scanned them both, then flicked toward the silent figure standing behind.
"And this one? He seems… familiar."
Vayne offered a short, respectful nod, his tone casual but respectful. "He's merely my butler. You may call him Lumis. He's here at my request—just to accompany me, nothing more."
The general, head of Parliament and commander of Mercury's defense forces, narrowed his eyes at Lumis. A flicker of recognition passed through his expression, but he said nothing further.
"…Very well," he muttered, leaning back into his seat with a heavy exhale.
Takashima remained still, his grip tightening slightly on the tablet in his hands. His focus had already shifted to the towering display screens behind the council—a war map was waiting to be revealed.
Vayne stepped up to the microphone, his cloak fluttering slightly with the motion.
"Shall we begin?"
"I, Alaric Vayne, stand here today as the representative of the surviving people of Mars," he said, his voice calm but edged with weariness. "A population… reduced to seventy thousand."
Gasps rippled through the council chamber. A few of the demi-human representatives whispered among themselves, ears twitching and tails flicking in shock. Even the hardened military delegates stiffened in their seats.
The General narrowed his eyes.
"Wasn't Mars home to over one hundred million?"
Vayne's expression remained composed, but his eyes darkened.
"Indeed. At the beginning of the siege, we had full orbital defenses, a fleet ready in low atmosphere, and defense grids across every city sector. But none of it mattered."
He let those words hang in the air for a beat before continuing.
"Lionel's first assault came like a blade in the dark. Precision strikes. Demonic magic unlike anything we've seen. Our satellites were severed in seconds. Within the first day—half our population was gone."
Takashima stepped forward, holding up the hollow tablet as a red scan of Mars blinked to life behind them, riddled with scorch marks and collapsed sectors.
"Entire districts were leveled in minutes. Our emergency shelters were overrun. Every escape route became a death trap. What you see here..." he turned toward the council, "...is what's left."
The General's jaw tightened, his gaze locked onto the flickering red map.
"And the remaining fifty percent?"
Vayne's voice dropped, cold and sharp.
"Gone. Wiped out in the final wave during our retreat. Only seventy thousand souls escaped."
The council chamber fell into a stunned silence. No one moved. No one spoke.
Until a quiet voice echoed from the Working Class representatives' side.
"…How are they alive?"
Vayne turned slightly, his eyes glinting.
"Because we refused to die."
"I take it," the General said slowly, his eyes narrowing, "since you're representing Mars… that Redspire has fallen?"
Vayne's lips thinned into a solemn line. He gave a slow nod.
"Sadly, yes. Sovereign Kaelus Redspire remained behind to ensure our escape. He held the line with the last of our forces while we launched the final evacuation pods." Vayne's voice trembled just slightly, but he didn't falter. "He gave everything. A true leader... to the end."
The General bowed his head in respectful silence.
"Then I take it you've come to negotiate... what shall be done with the survivors?"
"Yes," Vayne replied. "Mercury was the only territory who responded to our call for aid. And you came through. We are thankful—deeply. You offered your skies. You gave us shelter. And for that... we will never forget."
Takashima stepped forward, his voice steadier now.
"We don't come asking for charity. We come to cooperate. To find where the Martians can contribute. Where they can rebuild."
The General gave a short nod. "We were expecting more… truth be told. We prepared housing for hundreds of thousands. Perhaps millions." His gaze dropped. "But you're right. Seventy thousand is all that remains."
A quiet beat passed before he continued.
"We're still housing a great many evacuees from Earth as well. And now..."
Before he could finish, a voice from the Sovereign Representatives' section broke through.
"—We can't just keep taking them in like this," a man sneered, dressed in layered silk with a badge bearing a golden serpent. "Resources are strained already. Food, space, jobs—it's not infinite."
Another voice chimed in from the upper seats, a sharp-toned woman with fox-like features and icy blue eyes. "We don't even know if they're truly loyal. What if Lionel placed spies among them? We could be inviting disaster right into our walls."
A third figure, older, draped in chains of gold and seated among the wealthier delegates, leaned forward lazily. "Why not send them to the outer districts? Let them earn their place. Work the furnaces. Clean the sewers. If they're so eager to rebuild, let them start from the bottom."
Murmurs of agreement echoed from that side of the chamber—quiet, insidious, calculating.
The working-class representatives, particularly the demi-wolves and demi-cats, bristled visibly. Some hissed. Others stood halfway from their seats before Takashima raised a hand, subtly urging calm.
Vayne's eyes narrowed. He didn't respond immediately.
But when he did, his voice was low—and it cut through the noise like a blade.
Vayne stepped forward from the podium, letting the echoes of the last cold remarks fade behind him. His cape swayed gently, his expression calm, but behind his eyes burned a quiet, righteous fire.
"I'm not asking you to take our people above your own," he began, his voice smooth but firm. "Nor am I here to demand they be treated the same as yours in station or privilege. We come here as survivors. Not rulers, not conquerors, not saviors. Survivors."
His gaze swept across the room—up toward the Sovereign Representatives, to the stoic faces of the Military Council, and then finally toward the Working Class delegation where weary eyes met his own with cautious hope.
"But what I do ask... is that you treat them as people."
He paused, letting that sink in.
"As neighbors. As fellow children of the Great Spirit. Are we not all kin under the same sky? Do we not all bleed the same red, dream the same dreams, mourn the same losses?"
He took another step forward, hands clasped behind his back.
"These seventy thousand who remain—they are the last voices of a world turned to ash. Mothers without children. Brothers without sisters. Scientists. Builders. Teachers. Farmers. Warriors. Not a burden, but the memory of what Mars once was—and a seed of what it could be again."
Vayne's voice softened but carried no less weight.
"I will not stand here and pretend things aren't hard. I know they are. Mercury stands at the edge of war just as Mars once did. But if your answer to hardship is to turn your back on those who've already lost everything… then you're not protecting your home. You're just building a smaller one."
He let his words hang, quiet and heavy.
"We ask not for comfort. We ask for the right to survive with dignity. For our children to wake up without fearing they are less than yours. For our families to work, to help, to rebuild... together."
A long silence followed, heavy with thought.
Vayne lowered his eyes respectfully.
Then, at last, the General's voice cut through the tension—not sharp, but deliberate.
"…The ones who can work," he said slowly, "will earn their place."
He raised his hand.
"All in favor?"
Hands rose across the chamber. Muted murmurs of assent followed from all three representative factions. The majority had spoken.
The General gave a firm nod. "It's settled. We begin immediately."
His eyes locked onto Vayne.
"If we're going to face off against Lionel's demon users and his twisted machines… we'll need more than courage."
He stood, voice rising with authority.
"I'm issuing a new order: all elite forces must double their current strength. This includes every high-ranking combatant, every special unit—and especially the heroes of Mars."
His gaze swept across the hall.
"War is no longer coming. It's here."
And with that, the council chamber echoed with a final clang of the gavel—marking the end of the meeting… and the beginning of Mercury's preparation for the war to come.
Lumis adjusted his gloves, glancing at the others. "That went well."
"I knew it would," Vayne replied, his tone confident, almost pleased. "Mercury—despite its flaws—is still a nation of honor."
Takashima crossed his arms, his expression already shifting back into focus. "Then we begin immediately. The sooner we train, the better."
"You and the others will be in charge of that," Vayne said, looking ahead. "As for me… Andrew Handerfall and I will begin situating our people."
No more words were needed.