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TERROR FROM THE SKY
last update2025-02-07 18:46:43

Two days later, the world had seen it. The whole nation had watched in horror as the news spread like wildfire.

Television channels, social media, and radio stations were flooded with reports of The Lunebrook Campaign Tragedy.

Everywhere, people talked about the disaster.

Videos of the explosions, the screaming crowd, and the burning wreckage of Marvin’s drones played on repeat.

News anchors spoke in serious tones, their faces were grim as they narrated the horror that had unfolded.

"What was meant to be a peaceful political rally turned into a massacre," one reporter announced.

"Investigations are ongoing to determine why the drones malfunctioned and caused such devastation. Meanwhile, the death toll continues to rise, and hundreds remain injured."

Marvin couldn’t bear to watch anymore.

He turned off the TV in his office and leaned back in his chair, his mind in was in deep turmoil.

This was not what he had planned. This was not what his drones were created for.

Yet, the entire worl
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  • THE SUMMONS OF THE COUNCIL

    The summons arrived in silence. No messengers on horseback, no military escorts, no blaring announcements on city screens. Just a sealed black envelope delivered to Marvin Richmond’s residence, marked with the crest of eleven interwoven sigils—the seal of the Council of Elders.It was said that only once in a lifetime could a man be summoned before them, and even then, few survived the weight of it unchanged. To sit in their presence was the highest honor and the heaviest curse.Marvin stood on the Richmond mansion balcony as the envelope burned faintly in his hand. He had ensured the rebuilding of Richmond from ashes, fought through betrayal, declared reforms, and carved a thirty–year covenant around the Astralyte. Yet now, this—this felt heavier than every battlefield combined.The note had contained only six words.“The Hall of Continuum awaits you.”The motorcade was small and discreet, nothing like the grand parades that once carried his father. Marvin had refused more than two

  • A FATHER'S SHADOW

    The Richmond Memorial Gardens were vast and solemn, a place where silence reigned louder than any voice. Sunlight spilled across polished marble walkways, reflecting against names carved into gleaming headstones. The air smelled faintly of trimmed grass and stone warmed by the afternoon sun.Marvin Richmond walked slowly, his shadow was long and sharp on the paved path. No much announcement, no escort, no enforcers followed him—only the weight of memory. The gardens were beautiful, but to him, they felt heavy, suffocating.He stopped before a black marble slab that rose taller than the others. The inscription gleamed in gold letters:Darien Richmond. Father. Lion of Dominion.Marvin’s jaw tightened. It was his father’s grave. Yes Darien Richmond (Mr Richmond) was his father and his grave stood pristine, draped in flowers from loyalists who still revered the man. But Marvin saw not the lion of legend—he saw the betrayer, the man who had broken his son with one final act of treachery

  • FAMILY BUSINESS, FAMILY BLOOD

    The silence after the slaughter was unbearable.The banquet hall stank of gunpowder and blood. Bodies sprawled across the marble floor, their lifeless eyes staring at nothing. The candles on the long table flickered weakly, their light dancing on shattered goblets and spilled wine that bled into the cracks of the stone.And yet, above that carnage, one sound still lingered.Marvin Richmond’s laughter.Dark. Cold. Relentless.It was not the laughter of a man amused, but of a man who already owned the end of this story. His voice rolled across the hall like thunder breaking in the night, and even the walls seemed to tremble beneath its weight.The conspirators—Rowan, Martha, and two trembling allies—stood frozen in that sound. Their weapons had been stripped away. Their Synapticore had been snuffed out. And now they had nothing left but shame and fear.Marvin rose from his chair with unhurried grace, his hand brushing the table as he stood. His gaze swept across them, sharp as the edge

  • THE BANQUET TRAP

    The night was too still. Too silent.Rowan Richmond felt the weight of that silence as he stood in the abandoned wing of the estate, his cloak brushing against dust and stone. Around him, shadows shifted — the shapes of men and women who had followed him into treachery. Their faces carried one thing in common: hatred.Hatred for Marvin. Hatred for Alicia. Hatred for a Richmond family that had dared to rise again without their rightful patriarchs Mr Richmond and Daniel Richmond when they should have crumbled. Hatred for Marvin who was responsible for the death of both patriarchs.Rowan’s jaw tightened as he spoke. His voice was low, sharp as a blade.“Tonight we cut the head from the snake. Marvin Richmond will not leave this estate alive. Nor will that witch Alicia who dares call herself leader. We end this now.”The conspirators muttered their approval, eyes glinting with malice. But the figure who stepped forward next silenced them all.Martha.Her beauty had faded into something h

  • THE PRIVATE STORM

    The chamber fell into a hush when Alicia stepped back from the window. For a moment, her eyes lingered on Marvin and Stella — husband, wife, and child in the glow of light. She knew the conversation that awaited them did not need her presence.She bowed her head lightly. “I will leave you to rest, Marvin. The people still need guidance outside, and I should begin answering them. My duty has already begun.”Marvin gave her a tired smile. “Thank you, Alicia. You have carried us quietly for years. Now you carry us openly. I trust you completely.”Her lips trembled faintly, though her expression remained composed. With one last glance at Stella and baby Lucian, Alicia excused herself. The heavy doors closed softly behind her, and the air in the chamber shifted.Now, it was only family.Stella rose slowly from her chair, swaying baby Lucian gently in her arms. His tiny fist gripped her necklace, his breaths were slow and steady against her chest. She hummed a quiet tune — a lullaby her mot

  • AFTER THE REFORMS

    The courtyard was still ringing with echoes when Marvin lowered his hand. His last words — passing the Richmond banner to Alicia — still hung in the air like thunder that refused to fade.For a heartbeat, no one moved. The nobles stared. The Richmond enforcers shifted uneasily. The common crowd outside whispered, torn between disbelief and awe.Marvin turned slowly. His bandaged arm lifted, pointing toward the woman who had stood quietly through all of it.“Alicia Richmond,” he said, his voice was steady. “The one who held this house together when the rest of us failed to do so. The one who managed disputes no one else could resolve. The one who guarded Richmond dignity even when it was spat on in the streets. While we fought wars, while we broke ourselves in power struggles, she was always working for this family — unseen, unthanked, unbroken. Today, I name her the true leader of Richmond.”The torches along the balcony flickered. All eyes turned toward Alicia.For a moment she did n

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