Astashica: Eternal Starborn Dominion

The Plains of Leipira stretched endlessly beneath the dim glow of a war-torn sky. Deep trenches carved into the earth ran like scars across the land, reinforced with energy barriers, plasma turrets, and the unwavering presence of Val'katl's warriors.

Va'katl stood at the highest point of the trenches, surveying the battlefield. His golden eyes narrowed as he gazed across the river delta, where Ixtiel's forces remained at ease, camped in the distance.

For days, the enemy had not engaged.

For days, the warriors of Val'katl had waited.

And yet, there was no peace.

Something was wrong.

The War That Does Not Come

Commander Rathok stood beside Va'katl, his rifle slung over his back, helmet tucked under one arm. His scarred features betrayed no emotion, but his voice carried the weight of uncertainty.

"They should have struck by now."

Va'katl nodded. "Yes."

Rathok motioned toward the hovering platforms of the Shadow Legion, their rotating blades idle, their darkened visors reflecting nothing but the emptiness of the plains.

"They're just standing there," he muttered. "Watching."

Va'katl's grip on Khalzir tightened. "They're waiting."

A long silence stretched between them.

Then Rathok spoke again, lowering his voice slightly.

"What if we've already lost this war, and we just don't know it yet?"

Va'katl turned sharply. "What are you saying?"

Rathok exhaled. "I'm saying that Cosmus plays a longer game than we do. Look at them. Ixtiel doesn't need to win today. He doesn't even need to win this year. He just needs us to sit here until we can't fight anymore."

Va'katl hated that Rathok was right.

This wasn't a battle—it was a slow, grinding erosion of their will.

And yet, he would not give in.

Not now.

Not ever.

The Sky That Lies

Va'katl turned his gaze upward.

There, in the highest reaches of the ashen clouds, something shifted.

A distortion.

A ripple.

Like the sky itself was bending.

For days, his warriors had whispered of the warped air, of how the clouds swirled unnaturally in one spot above the battlefield.

But now, it was clear.

This was no illusion.

This was something real.

Va'katl's jaw tightened.

Something was watching them.

Something they could not yet see.

The Hidden Watchers

Deep in the trenches, scouts moved like ghosts between the embankments, their faces grim beneath their visors.

One of them—a Val'katlan reconnaissance officer named Orvek—emerged from the lower tunnels, his expression tight with concern.

He moved quickly, approaching one of the ranking officers, speaking in a hushed tone.

"I need to report something," Orvek said.

The officer frowned. "What is it?"

Orvek hesitated, then glanced around to ensure no one else was listening.

"There are others watching this battle," he said quietly.

The officer's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Salgaran scouts."

The officer stiffened. "You're certain?"

"Yes. My men spotted them moving along the outer ridge. They've been observing our defenses, but they haven't engaged. They don't want to be seen."

The officer cursed under his breath. "Does the Chieftain know?"

Orvek shook his head. "Not yet."

"Then don't tell him," the officer said firmly. "Not until we know what they're here for."

Orvek hesitated, then nodded. "Understood."

The conversation ended there, lost beneath the sounds of distant gunfire and shifting sand.

The war had more eyes on it than anyone realized.

The Warriors at Rest

As the sun dipped lower into the ashen sky, Va'katl's warriors gathered around a makeshift fire pit deep within the trenches, their armor loosened, their rifles resting against the earthen walls.

For a brief moment, they were not soldiers.

They were simply men and women who had fought too long, laughed too little, and survived far too much.

One of them—Torrek, a heavy-built warrior with a scar running across his jaw—took a long bite out of a protein ration bar, chewing thoughtfully.

"You ever wonder if the Salgarans eat real food?" he asked.

Across from him, Jarnak, one of Va'katl's eight elite warriors, smirked. "What are you talking about?"

Torrek gestured vaguely. "They follow that damn Astashica Hologram like it's some divine being. You ever think it just feeds them knowledge instead of actual food? Like, they just sit around listening to it, never needing to eat?"

Jarnak snorted. "You think they just survive on wisdom alone?"

"I don't know, man," Torrek muttered. "I hear things."

From across the fire, Rasha, another of Va'katl's elite, leaned in. "You want to know what I heard?"

Torrek raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"That Salgarans drink the blood of their enemies to increase their lifespan."

The group fell silent for a moment before bursting into laughter.

Torrek shook his head. "You're all insane."

Jarnak smirked. "If you ever meet Chieftain Salgar, you can ask her yourself."

Torrek paused, suddenly looking less amused.

"…I'll pass."

More laughter followed, the moment of levity cutting through the suffocating weight of war, if only for a short while.

The Storm That Has Not Yet Come

Far above them, the Defiance Vanguard loomed unseen, its shadow stretching over the battlefield like a hidden god.

Va'katl did not know it was there.

Not yet.

But he could feel it.

Something bigger than this war was coming.

Something they were not prepared for.

And when it finally arrived, the Plains of Leipira would never be the same again.