The clouds barely veiled the upper floors of the Control Tower, yet no one looked up anymore. On Zeraph, such sights had long become normal.
Once a desert world on the fringe of obscurity, Zeraph was now the central governing planet of humankind — the throne world of an empire that had clawed its way into the stars.
Eight centuries ago, the skies tore open.
The arrival of alien life — a moment carved into history as Point Zero — changed everything.
Back then, the governments of Earth were consumed by resource wars. Alliances collapsed, power changed hands constantly — humanity was fragmented, driven by greed, desperation, and the hunger for survival. Nations no longer acted as guardians of their people, but as warlords hoarding water, metals, and knowledge. Wars over mining belts, orbital platforms, and atmospheric zones became routine. The skies were scarred with smoke trails from burned-out satellites, and cities were swallowed by droughts and riots.
And then the Behime came.
A massive interstellar transport ship, crewed by various alien species, crashed in the deserts of Zeraph. Later it was made public that it belonged to a roaming trade or pirate consortium — specialized in capturing and selling rare lifeforms they called Exotics.
These Exotics — wild creatures, some tamed, some mutated or controlled through technology — were held in high-security energy cages. Some were intelligent. Others were pure killing machines. They came from countless worlds: swamp beasts with acidic breath, feathered shadows that could mimic any sound, crystalline serpents that fed on electromagnetic fields.
At that time, our planet Zeraph wasn't marked on any known interstellar chart — a blind spot in the universe, likely hidden by a cosmic anomaly or some form of energy shielding. The Behime crew became stranded, unaware of their exact location. It's possible they thought they had found a new planet to exploit — a chance to rebuild or refuel their starship in peace.
Their advanced technology outclassed all of Zeraph's scanning systems, allowing them to remain undetected on the planet — until they tried to send a signal, announcing their discovery of an uncharted world. That signal gave them away.
Humanity intercepted it. And for the first time in generations, the fractured human species acted as one.
The governments reacted immediately. A coalition of black-ops units, rogue military cells, and private military forces converged on the crash site. Official records claim a diplomatic exchange. Unofficially, it was a purge. The crew vanished. What happened next is buried under layers of secrecy. In the news they said it was a peaceful first contact — but unofficially, it was a silent extermination.
What remained were their technologies. And their captured Exotics, of which a few broke free during the "political exchange."
Reverse-engineering the alien tech began immediately. Human scientists unlocked compact fusion cores, neural synchronizers, and genetic stabilizers. Weapons evolved overnight. Medicine advanced decades in weeks. And the Exotics... were studied. Tested. In some cases, weaponized.
This marked the beginning of a new era — a war for knowledge and power.
Over the following decades, everything changed. Around 650 years ago, only three major governments remained, having absorbed the rest through violence or strategic compromise. At the same time, powerful Houses emerged — founded by entrepreneurs and visionaries who exploited captured alien technology and genetics. Some of these Houses operated like corporations, others like dynasties. They built their own fleets, funded private armies to keep their discoveries safe, and established colonies.
But the alien presence brought even deeper consequences.
Through the so-called Worldbreak Event, Zeraph became visible on a galactic scale — and foreign energies began to alter human biology. The barrier that had once cloaked our planet vanished. We were now part of new, sometimes rare kinds of mutations in human biology.
Four hundred years ago, human life expectancy increased to an average of 150 years through this foreign energy. Some individuals developed the first psychic abilities: precognition, kinetic distortion, and many more variations. Others discovered something far stranger — what some called "magic," a chaotic fusion of willpower and ambient energy. And then there were the anomalies, about which practically nothing is known except that they exist.
Humanity was mutating. Rapidly.
Three hundred years ago, we succeeded in building interstellar ships. The expansion into space began — and with it, a new era of exploration and conflict. Colonies were established on habitable moons and terraformable planets, and trade routes were opened.
Power struggles between the Houses and the planetary authorities escalated. A series of proxy wars erupted, culminating in the downfall of the Cryus Federation — one of the last stabilizing forces in the outer sectors. With its fall, an entire political era ended. Countless noble families vanished, absorbed or destroyed in the chaos.
From the ruins of the old system, new names rose — powerful, ruthless, and hungrier than ever.
A key role in this rise was played by a small group of humans who, through the Worldbreak and the influx of alien energy, developed extraordinary abilities. They became commanders, scientists, assassins, icons.
Within just half a millennium, humanity adapted to this new reality — and managed to stabilize the surrounding regions through strength, diplomacy, and fear.
Zeraph was now a center of power.
From here, governments, councils, and diplomats governed what the Star Union had become with its vassal planets and galactic regions.But everyone knew that decisions were not made in the official plenary halls — they were made in the chambers of the High Houses, those ancient lines that had carved their influence into the political foundation over generations.
Away from this nexus of power lay the planet Vardos, the Union's military world.On Vardos, one rule applied:
Whoever wished to endure had to prove it.Whoever could not, disappeared.
Among its academies, training cities, and isolated testing zones, there was no teaching — only selection.
The remaining worlds of the Union formed a mosaic of economic and social contradictions: corporate territories, production colonies, decaying outposts, religious sectors, trade metropolises.
Yet for the younger population of the Union, everything ultimately narrowed to one fact:
At fourteen, every child was taken to Vardos to learn and study.