Back in the past, when the 101st Star Game is about to begin, the skies above Planet Altinberg shimmer with bright sunlight.
In the center of the capital city, a giant platform rises before thousands of citizens. At its center stands the Star Gate, a massive ring of glowing runes swirling with cosmic energy.
The King of Altinberg, clad in his golden clothing is followed by his 10,000 chosen warriors, who steps toward the gate. He turns to his people and raises his arm high.
"My fellow citizens!" the King declares, his voice echoing across the city. "I will prove my worth as your King and bring glory to Altinberg! I shall win the 101st Star Games and make this planet a planet of God!"
The crowd erupts in thunderous cheers—flags waving, horns blaring, voices crying out in faith and pride.
The Star Gate hums louder, its core igniting with swirling magic as the portal opens. The King and his warriors march forward, vanishing one by one into the divine light.
But then—amid the roaring crowd—a small figure bursts through the lines.
A young boy, no older than fourteen, shoves past the armored guards with wild determination. His name is Voytek.
The soldiers yell, "Stop that boy!"
But it's too late. Excitement surges through Voytek's veins, his heart pounding like a drum of destiny. Without much hesitation, he leaps into the shimmering portal—just as it begins to close.
The soldiers freeze in disbelief as the Star Gate seals shut with a blinding flash.
The people gasp.
"Who was that?!"
"A boy just entered the Star Games!"
"What madness is this?!"
And just like that, Voytek, the boy who wasn't supposed to be there, stands with his people and his King as Stars in God's Arena
The first stage begins—five billion Stars scattered across a million of circular arenas suspended in the endless void of space. The rules are simple: survive the hour.
The moment the timer starts, chaos erupts.
Stars clash with one another, fists and powers colliding in a brutal storm. Screams echo across the void as bodies are hurled from the arenas, vanishing into the black abyss below.
A Star lands his first kill—instantly, a magic knife materializes in his hand. Seeing this, others follow suit. The air fills with violence and desperation as more Stars cut each other down, each kill rewarding them with stronger and deadlier weapons.
Amid the madness, Voytek runs—terrified, breath short, body trembling. He hides behind piles of dead bodies, dodging gunshots, arrows, and laser beams. But the battles close in. A blade slashes across his arm; a blast grazes his side. Blood drips as he stumbles away.
Gunfire, arrows, and lasers continues raining across the arena. The boy ducks behind a fallen body—only to find himself surrounded by a group of heavily armed Stars.
Just as they prepare to strike—
A grenade rolls between them and explodes
The explosion wipes out the group and sends Voytek flying, crashing into another pile of corpses. His vision blurs, ears ringing. Smoke fills the air.
He forces his eyes open—only to see a wounded woman staggering toward him, terror carved into her face. She grabs his arm and drags him toward the edge of the arena.
"Please!" she cries, her voice trembling. "I must survive… I need a weapon to defend myself!"
Voytek struggles, panic rising. As she tries to push him off, he clings to her with desperate strength. In a single motion of instinct and fear, he flips her over the edge.
The woman screams as she falls—disappearing into the endless void.
Voytek freezes, staring at his shaking hands. They're covered in blood.
A magic knife appears in his grip, glowing faintly.
"This was a mistake…" he whispers, his voice trembling. "I should've never come here..."
Around him, the slaughter continues—blades clashing, screams echoing, light flashing across the endless arenas.
Moments later, finally, the timer in the void counts down to zero.
Voytek kneels among the dead, drenched in blood, eyes hollow and lifeless. He doesn't cheer like the others. He can only stare as his dead King among the dead bodies, haunted by the price of survival and the loss of hope.
During the first game break in the Kingdom of God, Voytek walks down the golden streets, eyes blank and body trembling. The radiance of the divine city reflects off his bloodstained clothes, but he doesn't care.
His mini polar bear guide flutters beside him, worried, circling around his shoulder.
"Based on your demeanor," the bear says softly, "I must ask… do you wish to continue the Star Games, or return to your home planet?"
Voytek stops. His eyes well up, his lips quiver.
"Please…" he whispers, voice breaking. "Bring me back home."
The bear spins in a swirl of magic, shimmering light surrounding him.
"As you wish."
In a flash of divine light, Voytek's body dissolves into motes of gold—vanishing from the kingdom.
Moments later, the light reforms on Planet Altinberg, inside the grand Star Gate at the center of the capital city. The portal closes behind him with a resonant hum.
People below the platform look up in shock.
Voices erupt through the crowd:
"That's the boy who sneaked in!"
"Where are the others?!"
"No one has ever come back before!"
"What happened to the King?!"
Before Voytek can move, high-tech soldiers in gleaming armor rush in, surrounding him with rifles and energy blades drawn.
A commander steps forward, glaring.
"How dare you sneak in with the King's group! Your actions are deemed illegal!" he shouts. "You must be punished!"
Moments later, in the city square, a massive crowd gathers beneath a raised execution platform. Voytek hangs by his wrists from a metal bar, rope biting into his skin.
The crowd murmurs, some in pity, others in disgust.
The commander raises his hand.
"Quiet! There will be order!" he bellows. "The King entrusted me to take care of everything!"
He turns sharply toward Voytek, eyes cold.
"But first," he says, stepping closer, "I must get answers to my questions."
The Commander steps forward, his armor reflecting the bright sun. His voice cuts through the murmuring crowd.
"What happened in the Star Games?"
Voytek trembles, his eyes hollow. His voice shakes as he speaks.
"Death... there was death everywhere..."
The crowd gasps as the Commander narrows his eyes.
"Is the King thriving in the Games?"
Voytek takes a deep breath, his lips trembling.
"Our King is dead..."
A heavy silence falls. Then—chaos. The crowd erupts into disbelief.
"Impossible!"
"The King can't be dead!"
"Blasphemy!"
The Commander slams his whip onto the ground, glowing with electric energy.
"LIES! All LIES!"
The noise stops. The Commander turns around, fury burning in his eyes.
"Do you truly believe this fool of a boy?" he shouts to the crowd. "Our King is a great man! He would never die so easily! The boy must be punished for his deceit!"
He raises the glowing whip—ready to strike—
But a powerful voice rings out from below.
"Stop, Commander Fable!"
Everyone turns as a tall, noble man approaches the stage with an army of his own. The soldiers part instantly, making way for him. His name spreads across the crowd like wildfire.
"High Noble Waenush..."
Fable scowls. "Waenush, you dare interrupt me?!"
Waenush climbs the steps, his calm gaze locking on the Commander Fable.
"The boy speaks the truth. You, of all people, should know when a lie is told. You've interrogated countless men before... and you can see it in his eyes, can't you? You're just in denial."
Gasps spread through the crowd. Fable grips his whip tighter.
"The King entrusted me with his authority! I am the one who shall take charge in his place! Now get these fools off the stage!"
At his command, Fable's soldiers raise their weapons—
—but Waenush's troops step forward as well, weapons gleaming in the light.
A battle is seconds away as an all out war is about to happen.
Waenush raises a hand. "I am no fool who'll cause war when our nation needs a King most. Let the people decide."
Fable snarls, "You dare go against the King's final wishes?!"
Waenush steps closer, his voice firm and commanding.
"What is a King without his people? It is the people's right to choose their next King!"
The crowd erupts in thunderous approval.
"Let the people decide!"
"Waenush is right!"
Seeing the tide turn, Fable holds in his anger.
"Very well," he says coldly. "Everyone who is capable to become King will have one week to prepare. Then, the people shall vote for their next King."
Waenush nods. "Agreed. But one more thing—I will take this boy in my care. He, too, shall be given a chance to be King. He is only one in Altinberg history to return from the Star Games, that deserves every right."
Fable's face twists in anger, but as he looks around, he sees the crowd cheering for Waenush's words. Reluctantly, he lowers his whip.
Waenush's men step forward and untie Voytek. The boy falls to his knees, exhausted and trembling.
Waenush walks over, the sunlight blazing behind him like a halo. He kneels and extends a hand.
"What is your name, boy?"
Voytek's voice is weak but clear.
"Voytek..."
Waenush smiles faintly.
"Come along now, Voytek. The fate of this world is in our hands."
The boy looks up, the fear in his eyes slowly replaced by a faint spark of hope. He takes Waenush's hand—
—and the crowd erupts in cheers as the two descend the platform together, walking toward a destiny neither of them could yet imagine.
The next morning, Voytek stands before a mirror as a group of maids hurry around him, fastening layers of fine silk and gold-threaded cloth. The boy who once wore rags now looks like a young noble. He barely recognizes himself.
The door opens. Waenush steps in.
"At least you look up to par," he says with a satisfied nod. "There's going to be a lot to learn this week, so stay focused. Also, I've arranged some help for you."
He moves aside, and a young woman enters — graceful, composed, with sharp eyes and soft confidence.
"This is my daughter, Laenu," Waenush says. "She's a bit older than you, but she'll teach you everything you need to know about nobilty. If you can convince the people you're worthy of being King, we might actually save this city."
Voytek blinks in surprise. "Me? As King? But… aren't you a candidate too?"
Waenush smiles faintly. "That I am. But so are you. It doesn't matter who wears the crown , whether it's one of my fellow nobles, you, or me, it'll be enough to save this city."
Voytek looks down, his voice soft. "I'm from Brosky Village. I ran away chasing the dreams of the city… and the fantasy of the Star Games. I'm no noble, and I don't think I'm worthy to be King."
Waenush steps closer, placing a firm hand on the boy's shoulder. "You survived the Star Games. That's worth more than any title. Play your part well, and you'll earn the life you've always wanted."
Voytek hesitates — then nods.
Waenush leaves the room, the maids trailing after him, until only Voytek and Laenu remain. She bows politely.
"Let's begin your noble training right away."
Days pass quickly. Under Laenu's patient guidance, Voytek learns the art of speech, posture, etiquette, and noble swordplay. She corrects his stance, his tone, even the way he breathes.
At first, he's awkward — a village boy pretending to belong — but Laenu's calm encouragement draws something new out of him. Each lesson feels less like duty and more like destiny.
And somewhere between the dance of words and sword drills, Voytek realizes he's no longer thinking about the crown…
He's thinking about her.
The day of truth arrives.
The city square is alive with noise — tens of thousands gathered before the grand stage where twenty royal candidates stand in line. Golden banners ripple in the wind, and the sound of the crowd rolls like thunder across the plaza.
One by one, the candidates step forward to speak into the hovering microphone, their voices echoing through the city.
Fable takes his turn, confident and proud. His speech stirs the crowd; applause erupts.
Next comes Waenush. The cheers double — his presence commands the city like a storm.
Then, finally, it's Voytek's turn.
He walks up slowly, the young boy from Brosky Village dressed in royal white and gold. His reflection shimmers in the microphone's metal surface as he grips it tightly.
When he speaks, his voice trembles — not with fear, but with emotion.
"I am a survivor of the Star Games," he begins, the words spreading across the city like ripples in still water. "I fought hard beside our late King… and when I saw his death, I lost all hope."
The crowd falls silent.
Voytek takes a breath, steadying himself. "I chose to come back — not because I was a coward, but because I thought about home. About this planet. About what would happen to it without a true King."
He glances toward Waenush, then back at the people. "After spending a week among the nobles, I realized something. I still have much to learn… and much to redeem. So I will not stand here pretending to be worthy of the crown."
The audience murmurs, uncertain.
Voytek's voice grows stronger. "I do not wish to be King. Instead, I wish to serve the new King. To help build a better system for the Star Games for those who seek godhood, no matter their class, their wealth, or where they were born."
He lifts his gaze, his words burning now.
"A King is not needed for the Star Games — a King is needed for this planet! Godhood isn't the only way for a King to prove himself worthy. All of our previous Kings have fallen to the Star games so let's not repeat that mistake! The next King will shape our world to a better place, and I, will be shaping the best person from this planet to become God, so the future of the planet will be much brighter than before!"
Silence. Then — slowly, a single clap echoes through the crowd. Another follows. Then hundreds. Then thousands.
The voting phase then begins.
A massive digital screen hovers above the city square, its crystal surface glowing with streams of data. The candidates' names appear beside tall, shifting bars that rise and fall as votes flood in.
Fable's bar climbs high — but stalls in third place.
Voytek's name surges next, rising fast until it settles in second.
And at the very top — Waenush.
The square erupts in cheers as fireworks burst across the sky. Bells ring, confetti rains down, and the people chant the name of their new King.
Waenush steps forward, dressed in regal silver and blue. The crown lowers from the sky on a floating platform, and as it touches his head, golden light ripples across the stage.
He raises his hand and declares,
"Voytek is right! I will not join the Star Games — instead, I will build this world into a better home for us all!"
The crowd roars louder than ever, the sound echoing through every street and tower.
Voytek watches from the side of the stage, pride shining in his eyes. His gaze drifts toward Laenu, who smiles from the crowd — pure and radiant. For a brief moment, amidst all the noise and celebration, the world feels at peace.