Belock Star, located in the Sixth Stellar Region of the vast cosmos, was a remote celestial body suitable for life. Here, the civilization of the Belock Kingdom thrived. For over four centuries, the Belock Kingdom had ruled this star. Yet now, the once-prosperous nation had entered an era of turmoil. The previous ruler had died abruptly in his prime, and though his young son had succeeded to the throne, the child was powerless to stabilize the kingdom's unrest. But that was to be expected—what grand feats could a six-year-old possibly achieve?
Atop a barren peak, a boy clad in a fitted black tunic stood barefoot, gazing into the fathomless valley below. His eyes were calm, deep, and carried a maturity beyond his years, his skin a light bronze under the fading sunlight. Motionless, he faced the dusk, his back to the abyss. Night fell, swallowing the world whole. The lingering warmth of the earth dissipated as the boy exhaled a misty breath. The temperature difference on Belock Star could reach 40 degrees between day and night—few ventured out after dark, let alone dressed so lightly.
Deep into the night, the boy finally opened his eyes... and let himself fall backward into the valley. To an observer, it would seem like madness—or suicide. A plunge from such a height would leave no remains. Yet the boy reveled in the exhilaration of the descent, his eyes fixed on the stars above. Just before his body could collide with a jagged outcrop, his hand shot out, seizing the rock with uncanny precision. He swung himself in a fluid arc, launching into open air again. Free-falling another few meters, he abruptly grabbed another ledge, arresting his momentum. The frigid air seemed to have no effect on him. Agile as a shadow, he continued his descent.
Minutes passed. Halfway down, beads of sweat formed on his brow—yet he didn't pause to rest. By dawn, he reached the valley floor. Dead vegetation littered the ground, their remains oddly preserved. Natural decay should've long claimed them... which meant something else had killed this place. The boy pressed onward. Soon, he halted, his bright eyes flickering with emotion. Before him stood two towering humanoid mechs, each over twenty meters tall—Bio-Armor Units. Time had ravaged their frames, yet their imposing presence remained. The sleek, battle-worn contours and gaping gun barrels still inspired awe. One black, one white, the two mechs leaned against each other like lovers.
After a long silence, the boy climbed the white unit with practiced ease. The hatch at its crown was still open. He slipped inside. The dark cockpit suddenly illuminated. "Master." A melodious voice greeted him. The boy hesitated. "Call me Qianlong, Phantom." "Understood. Adjusting records... Modification complete." "Where is my father?" "Searching... No relevant data found." Qianlong fell silent again. Finally, he spoke: "Come with me." "Acknowledged. Initiating detachment sequence: Safeties disengaged. Dampeners offline. Restraints released." A series of crisp clicks echoed through the cockpit. The control panel split open, revealing a rising compartment. Inside lay a small box.
Qianlong hesitated before gripping it. The box fractured, and a translucent white orb floated into the air. Within it, countless filaments intertwined. As he reached out, the orb morphed—extending a needle that pierced his palm. The sphere liquefied, injecting itself into his body. A voice resonated in his mind: "Symbiosis complete." Qianlong exhaled, rubbing his palm. A familiar warmth surged through him—his mother's presence. This was her final gift to him. He climbed out, casting one last glance at the two mechs before turning away.
Before turning ten, Qianlong had lived joyfully, nestled in his mother's warmth as she spun tales of distant stars. His father, though, was a figure of relentless drills and study. He never understood why he alone among his peers endured such rigor. At ten, his frail mother passed. His father's smiles vanished, replaced by even harsher training. Qianlong grew uneasy—not from the work itself, but from the grim certainty that his father was preparing him to stand alone. Six years later, he stared at his father's final message for an entire day: "I go to settle my affairs. Walk your path well. Do not seek me. Phantom in the valley is yours." Two years after that, Qianlong claimed Phantom. The black mech's core, he assumed, had been taken by his father.
Now, he climbed back toward home. Seven days later, Qianlong reached the outskirts of a soot-streaked town. Once rich in resources, the depleted mines had left it forgotten—a blessing, for it meant the valley's mechs stayed hidden. "Qianlong! Where've you been?" A townsman waved. "Handling some business," Qianlong replied politely. The man chuckled. "You're too proper! How'd your wild father raise someone so refined?" Qianlong smiled. "Thank you." "Stay clear of the cities lately—things are unstable." The man eyed him approvingly. With most youth gone to urban centers, Qianlong was a rare gem. Pity his parents had vanished... though few had ever seen his bedridden mother. "I'll keep that in mind," Qianlong said. "Excuse me."
As he walked home, his resolve solidified: It was time to leave this town.