The Sentinel – Prologue

Prologue  ; 14-7-1590 A.C.   “The one absolute rule is, you are as strong as how much you could draw from the realm of Arahal, but draw more, severe consequences would’ve followed.” -[Redacted], Unknown Date.   [Seliebad III/Seliebad staelet/Joerdigar sektör/Vaetrie Kreich] [Seliebad III/Seliebad state/Joerdigar sector/Dominion of Vaetria]   In a museum, far from where the galaxy boiled in conflicts, the universe seemed to close its eyes to an event unfolding within. With his mastery of the little known power, the Psionic power, an art known only to a few amongst the star, Istraf tossed aside the last of the building’s guard. A Psychic aura, seen only by those who wielded its power, ensnared the guard’s limp bodies. He was then hurled into the priceless collection of ancient technologies adorning the halls. Laptops shattered, phones rent asunder, and other antiquated machines were crushed beneath the weight of his flesh and bones. Amidst the chaos and devastation wrought by his power, his eyes fell upon the prize he had long sought: a dull and meagre grey box, placed alone on a display of long-forgotten trinkets and antiquities. As he walked forth the hall, no longer the grand and majestic it once was, the scene had became a macabre tableau of violence and destruction, the walls pockmarked with bullet holes and stained with the blood of the honest men. Moonlight shone upon him as he stepped forth, revealing an attire somewhere between the museum’s antiquity and the rugged fabric of a typical dark sector pirate. A black Vaetrian eagle in a white shield etched on his right arm, a symbol of the 1^st Vaetrian empire that ceased to exist for half a millenium. In this dark and dismal setting, where the electricity was disabled and the security surveillances slumbered, the only source of illumination was those of sporadic flicker of dying sparks, casting a foreboding and eerie light upon the varying remnant of the past long gone. Istraf pondered aloud with his mouth, “Tell me my brethren, does human nature compel us to think with things beyond our comprehension?” His footfalls made no sound as he approached the box which appeared older than this country. “Answer me this,” Istraf inquired the dying guard as he stepped closer, whom, both shared the same Vaetrian heritage of golden hairs and blue eyes. “In your final moments, do you think of your country? Its achievements, its history, its glories?” As he glanced at the man, now drenched in blood, Istraf continued, “Or is it always something more personal, more cherished that comes to mind?” Istraf stepped into the display's field of view as he spoke, his words carrying a weight of introspection. “Spouse, children, parents, anything or anyone you've ever loved—” he mused, then added, “—or sometimes, it's your regrets, your mistakes that haunted you.” However, the dying guard's laboured breathing brought Istraf's words to an abrupt halt. “Never mind—” he said, acknowledging the inevitable end. “—All things would come to an end, regardless.” As he gazed upon the unassuming grey box before him, Istraf noticed a curious violet mist seeping from within. The simplicity of the box's design triggered another thought in his mind. His hand gestured, purple aura arched towards the transparent showcase for a second. The glass shattered by the raw power from his unseen might. Then, the grey box flew to Istraf’s side at his command. As soon as the square landed, curiosity hung over his little heart. The box’s presence seemed to hint at an unknown fate. How it even came here already made him questioned reality. “What’s a small Arahal doing here?” He asked. A silent communication from between persons happened unbeknownst to him, “<<Hawk, this is Hammer-1, solid ID of an Abhuman on the prize, please advise>>” The silent communication continued. Istraf's face remained stoic as he opened the dull—old—meagre metal case before him. “<<Hammer-4 in position>>” “A crystal?” he questioned aloud, laying his eyes on the diamond-shaped amethyst resting on a cushion. “<<Hammer-2 standing by>>” The jewel glowed with a purple aura, it surrounded the gem like a small cloud. The crystal was barely compared with his finger, much smaller than he had imagined for the trouble he went through. “<<Hammer-3 waiting for orders>>” “<<Hammer-1, this is Hawk, be advised, no restriction, you are to engage with any means possible, copy?>> Cloud of uncertainty began cluttering Istraf's mind, “Why?” He simply asked, “Why would such a small stone hold Arahal?” “<<Solid copy, Hammer-2, 3, 4, eyes on target, on my mark—>>” Suddenly, the air grew heavy, and Istraf's reflexes kicked in. He closed the metal case and turned around, only to be met with thunderous shots piercing the air; railgun bullets came to him from four different directions. Istraf summoned a Psionic barrier with his hand, creating a purple dome of force as strong as the power he put into, its glass-like wall shimmered like a diamond while his eyes saw through it. The mighty defence barrier he had erected clashed against the projectiles and countless crimson rainbows rained onto the air in their dying shine. Istraf's previously composed demeanor shifted to one of caution as he observed his barrier began to crack. He mustered his Psionic might, and conjured a huge purple aura around his right arm. With a single sweeping gesture, a tremendous wave of washed over the entire hall, blasting away all manner of displays of yore. All, that is, except for four dark figures clad in pitch-black battlesuit. These figures stood defiant, their hiding places robbed from them by Istraf's Psionic onslaught. They crossed their hands in front of them and were encased with a thing which made Istraf opened his mouth wide. Psionic barrier, shining like a soft diamond, its transparent barrier glinted under the moonlight pouring in through the sky windows above. Theirs mimicked his own in every detail save for their lesser purple aura—which was enough to shield them from Istraf's might and the debris filling the air . As if a tempest held its breath, the battle paused. The two sides regarded one another warily. “Who are you!?” Istraf asked. The figures activated their helmets which bore red-brazen shapes of Y visor like the prowling and rapacious predators of legend. One among them, Feovill, through their wireless communication, asked his comrades with a hushed whisper of a young teenage lad, “<<Did you see that? He uses Psionic power!>>” Kana replied, “<<That's impossible! We were its first users in the whole galaxy!>>” Eura interjected firmly, “<<It doesn’t matter. Our mission remains the same>>” Hemir voiced his concern, “<<But what do we do now? That bloke blocked four shots and seems just as eager to obtain the box as we are!>>” As Eura weighed her choices, her azure eyes of an Ashen met the gaze of another pair of blue Vaetrian eyes in the distance. Uncertainty and hesitation were mirrored in both of their gazes. She transmitted a message to the mission control, “<<Hawk, this is Hammer leader, a complication on the prize, the Abhuman, he—>>” She stumbled a bit, knowing no military terms for a Psionic user ever existed yet, “<<—he is a Psion, over>>” The operator paused, her description froze the one watching over them, and casted few more seconds of tense silent. “<<Hammer team, be advised, proceed as planned, you are to retrieve the prize by any means as soon as possible, is that copy? Over>>” The mission control decided. “<<Solid copy, Hammer out>>” Eura finished. In the stillness of the aftermath, Istraf imposed his previous question, “Who are you, Arahal users!?” The four were taken aback by the unfamiliar term heard for the first time in their life, but their hesitation was short-lived as Eura's signal cut through the confusion. They aimed their rifles once more, but Istraf met their attack with a greater surge of purple aura. Molten slugs roared towards him, but with both hands, he summoned a new barrier that held fast against the onslaught. Undeterred, Istraf made a daring leap over the sea of wrecked displays and plunged into Eura. The girl responded in kind, drawing her combat blade which blazed in scarlet plasma. Istraf's powerful fist cracked Eura's barrier, and the two engaged in close combat. The other three Psion hesitating to fire with their comrade in such a close proximity. Eura's enhanced body allowed her to move with grace and agility, and soon she found an opening to strike Istraf with her blade. The other three Psion rushed to aid her in close quarter, each drawing their own combat blade. Her searing plasma heat threatened to cut him. But Istraf delivered a mighty blow. It shattered her body barrier, and sent her flying through the air. The Hammer team looked on with gaping mouth, for even in his unarmoured and weaponless state, Istraf managed to beat Eura. Feovill sprang forward, brandishing his blade, but Istraf nimbly evaded his strike. Undaunted, he attempted to grapple him. He leveraged his weight to bring him down, but the man stood as firm as a statue, and simply gazed at his opponent. “<<What?>>” Feovill gasped. Istraf raised his hand, a powerful Psionic shockwave blasted Feovill. It sent him hurtling through the air in a heavy purple aura. With his opponent thrown, Istraf was wide open. “<<Open fire!>>” Eura said, standing up. As she spoke the command, the chamber once again lit in fierce blazes. Istraf called forth his barrier again, this time learning his mistake. He poured more of his power into the shielding than before, and held back the blue onslaught. Seeing their rifles rendered useless, Kana and Hemir charged forward and wielded their plasma blades. Istraf embraced their advance with a counter charge, and the three clashed in the middle, their Psionic auras swirling like a storm in a gruesome dance as they battled. But soon it became clear that there was a difference in their martial prowess. Kana was disarmed and Hemir was thrown by another Psionic shockwave. In a final effort, Kana attempted a kick, it grazed him like a gentle breeze. “Heh,” Istraf scoffed. His hand tore through her barrier with ease and seized her by the throat. “Despite possessing that power, you clearly have never used it.” He commented, dismissive tone began to appear in his voice. He then threw her aside, her body sliding across the floor until coming to rest a distance away. "How did you get this power?" He inquired, his relaxed stance returned. The four stood, silent and alert, hands on their combat blades and kept a cautious distance from Istraf who himself stood under the basking moonlight. “I mean you no harm, I have nothing against you,” he declared, “It would be best if you stay away from me, kids. You don’t know what’s happening in the galaxy. I am trying to prevent a conflict that is sure to come.” His words sent shivers down the spines of the four, who, though motivated by similar concerns, had different objectives: To prepare for the coming conflict. To retrieve the Psionic artefact yet known to the galaxy, blunting the Dominion’s edge in supersoldier as the Federation made theirs with this peculiar purple amethysts. The Psion, the Federation of Vaetria’s answer to the Dominion of Vaetria’s Aiter. An input through the communicator disrupted their exchange. “<<Hammer team, this is Hawk, abort the mission, over! I repeat, abort the mission! A positive confirmation on Dominion tactical team approaching the Museum>>” A white light, piercing through the midnight, illuminated Istraf who stood below the transparent sky glass. “PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR!” Commanded a police officer through the speaker. An armed shuttle hovered above the museum, its anti-gravity generator hummed, foreshadowing trouble to all of them. “<<PULL BACK!>>” Eura said, knowing that they couldn’t risk detection by the Dominion. Plasma bullets showered Istraf, and the four, still concealed at the chamber's edge, fled without hesitation. The sky glass shattered, thick smoke and evaporated matter shrouded the hall as the Hammer team fled. Istraf thrusted his Psionic force like a mace onto the shuttle, blunting the cockpit with its pilot. The flying iron fell helplessly onto the museum, crashing into another part of the building. Tactical police teams entered the fray and shot him from behind, raising chaos. Azure hail storms raged on his barrier, which evermore cracked under hundreds of blue beams. He turned and flung another sweeping wave, washing the dark-uniformed personnel. More approached from different directions, soon surrounding him on all sides like ants, hiding between pieces of broken displays of yore. “<<FIRE! KEEP THE PRESSURE!>>” one of the advancing men shouted. They poured in and resumed the pungent blue hurricanes, covering the entrance of others as they took positions, adding to the intensity of the firefight. Istraf, pressured and strained, saw his barrier disintegrating. More shuttles arrived above, and he could even hear a distinct sound of the atmospheric frigates coming. Cornered, he unleashed his full might. His eyes burned in purple flames. The night turned into a bloodbath.