With the royal funeral finished, the empire returned to its ways. Yet one pressing problem plagued the Emperor — the ongoing escapes of the Tartarusios.
Emperor Johan Adrin was a man of immense pride. He tolerated neither failure nor opposition. To prove a point, he would not hesitate to eradicate entire planets — even entire star systems — if that was what it took to remind his enemies who ruled the void. To him, mercy was a weakness, one that could be exploited by rivals and pretenders alike. That belief was not born from arrogance but instilled in him since birth — for Johan Adrin was raised, molded, and tempered by his father: Volnir Adrin, former Emperor of Terria.
Volnir was a towering man — tall, broad, and terrifying in presence. There was, however, one thing that softened his otherwise grim appearance: his long, golden hair. Yet when his piercing green eyes met yours, every shred of calm vanished. Under his reign, the empire expanded at an unprecedented rate. Entire systems were annexed, entire civilizations brought to their knees. Volnir was a pure-blooded military man; though royals were exempt from service, he was one of the few who took up arms himself and fought on the front lines.
Through years of conquest, he learned one lesson that would define both his rule and his son's:"Fear is the most powerful weapon a ruler can wield."
And he wielded it without restraint.
Those who served under Volnir knew that ruling through fear left no room for error — no space for failure. He despised defeat more than anything. If the Empire ever lost a battle, there was hell to pay. His infamous outbursts became known as the Imperial Thunders. Whenever one struck, all within a hundred-meter radius were ordered to clear the area — not because he feared being seen, but because anyone who valued their life would stay away.
Walls would crack, furniture shattered, guards fled. And for the unfortunate officers who had failed him, the Emperor himself delivered judgment. Volnir's fury was legendary — he would strangle those responsible with his bare hands, watching the life fade from their eyes, as though punishing weakness itself.
Fortunately for the Empire, such storms were rare. Only three failed military campaigns occurred during his reign, and only five Imperial Thunders were ever officially recorded. The other two remained the subject of fearful speculation — whispered only in private halls long after his death.
As years passed, age crept upon Volnir. Though still fierce, his advisers urged him to secure an heir. He agreed, and soon after, he was introduced to Lady Mira Kaelthorn, daughter of Duke Harold Kaelthorn, head of one of the most powerful noble houses in Terria. Harold had two children — Mira, his younger daughter, and Martin Kaelthorn, who would become the father of Aurelion Kaelthorn.
Volnir's marriage to Mira was arranged, but fate had other designs. The royal wedding was as grand as Terria had ever seen. Mira, radiant in her bridal gown, seemed to glow beneath the golden light of the palace. Her long dark hair cascaded down her back like silk, her deep brown eyes calm and warm — a living contrast to the Emperor's hardened countenance.
Volnir, a man who had known nothing but bloodshed and strategy, was struck by something he could neither command nor understand — love. They said the beast was finally tamed.
Their union bore one child — Johan Adrin, the future Emperor.
From the moment he could walk, Johan was molded by his father's iron will. Volnir raised him to be both noble and ruthless, instilling in him every lesson, every philosophy he had learned from the battlefield. He ensured his son would not be another pampered ruler confined to palaces and politics. Johan served in the military, led campaigns, and saw the horrors of war firsthand.
But among all of Volnir's teachings, one command burned brightest in his son's mind:"An Emperor must never lose."
Johan took those words as scripture. He dedicated his youth to perfection — mastering the art of war, politics, and science alike. He was not merely a soldier or a scholar; he was a fusion of both — a mind sharpened by discipline and a heart hardened by duty.
Yet, of all his studies, what fascinated him most was the history of his Empire.
The Terrian Empire was, in truth, a relatively young power by galactic standards. Barely three centuries old, it had risen to dominance through one extraordinary discovery — the Orbitons.
They were the empire's first true technological marvels — towering war machines that redefined the nature of battle. Terrian explorers were the first to uncover remnants of ancient mechs, buried deep in forgotten sectors of the galaxy — relics of an age long before recorded history.
Six such machines were eventually found.
Their discovery ushered in a new era — The Age of Orbitons.
Through painstaking study and reverse-engineering, Terrian scientists uncovered two mysteries that defied all logic.
The first was their energy source. No known reactor, no fusion core, no element in the empire's entire database could replicate the limitless power that coursed through their frames.
The second was far stranger.
Each of the six Orbitons was alive.
Something conscious resided within their cores — an intelligence that was both part of the machine and separate from it. They each had names, voices, and personalities, though only those equipped with the Artifact Implant could hear them. These implants — biomechanical constructs integrated into the nervous system — allowed a human pilot to merge with the Orbiton, synchronizing body and machine into one.
Yet power always came at a price.
To pilot an Orbiton, two things were required:An Artifact Implant, and a living, capable body.
Every time an Orbiton was awakened, it demanded something from its pilot — strength, memories, or even years of life. The price differed for each.
The first discovered Orbiton was Helios.
It stood tall and imposing — a humanoid form sculpted with precision and purpose. Its armor was a sleek blend of matte white and gunmetal gray, the surface marked by crimson and cobalt accents along its joints and chest. The central plate — a glowing orange-red core — pulsed with a light like the heart of a dying sun. Its head was narrow, crowned with a single horn-like antenna reminiscent of both a knight's crest and a signal array.
In its right hand, Helios wielded a long, modular rifle — the Spear of Dawn — designed for precision orbital strikes. On its left arm, folded solar panels acted as both shield and energy absorbers, giving the machine near-limitless endurance in sunlight. Hydraulic conduits and exposed wiring laced its joints — a fusion of elegance and mechanical brutality.
Helios became the foundation for the Empire's first mass-produced line of Orbitons — the Clost-class.
The Closts were built for efficiency and destruction. Their frames were bulky and angular, layered with dark gray and black armor reinforced at key points — shoulders, chest, thighs — with streaks of pink and white marking their tactical interfaces. Compact visors glowed faintly with pink light, the neural systems inside mirroring those of their ancient ancestor.
The Closts brought about a golden age of conquest. Entire regions fell before Terria's might. With the Closts leading their fleets, the empire expanded across the stars at breakneck speed.
But with expansion came corruption — spies, betrayal, and industrial leaks. Within decades, the blueprints of the Closts had spread across the known universe. Rival powers began producing their own versions, and the balance of power shifted once more.
Even so, the Terrian Empire pressed forward.
It was during this turbulent time that the Empire made a new discovery — not one, but three more ancient Orbitons:Perciosa, Sirius, and Montern.