The End of the Galaxy

10 years ago

            Narcolia Nemacris was glad that his wife was gone for the week-end. The current month had been a rough one, and with Sajona, his wife, scolding him every time he let some documents or some food plates lying around, it was making it difficult to relax. Cleaning up was of total unimportance to him in such a crisis. Narcolia may have been thousands of years old (nobody knew his exact age, not even he himself), but according to Sajona, he was as untidy as a kid. She sometimes called him a pig, because pigs do exist on Nemus and they are loved because of their inter-galactically famous bacon. She had been gone for two days, so Narcolia headed to the corner store and got himself a 5-pack of beer. He sat on his couch in the living room, tossing aside a pizza box. There were plenty of papers on the table in front of the couch, along with some food plates, beer mugs, a wireless telephone and some sort of frisbee. He sometimes thought he was lazy, that maybe he should order himself to tidy up, but Narcolia was a procrastinator, because thousands of years do that to you. Ever since Fortuna’s dream two weeks ago, his work had been quite restless.

Fortuna Storfex was a young, gorgeous woman, just a little pale and lightly drowsy. She was the daughter of Narcolia’s now-deceased friend and also a member of the Council. She was born with the power of clairvoyance in her dreams, and that became very helpful when Narcolia needed to prevent Lizaross attacks or any other upcoming problem, though she could never dream about later than a month in the future; it seemed to be her Birth Power’s limit. Narcolia had raised her for a while after her parents died in a war. Since he took care of her as if she were his own daughter, Fortuna returned the favour by trying to foretell anything that Narcolia was concerned about. She was still in her twenties though, and so she was only a beginner in the road to master a Birth Power. That is why she made a living off of her fortune-telling booth called “Lady Fortuna’s Sleepy Revelations”. A customer would enter her booth to get a glimpse of his future by handing Fortuna a personal belonging, where she’d take an instant “Go-Ta-Sleep!” pill, and take a one hour nap in a bed behind the counter with the personal object in hand. After an hour, the customer would come back and she’d have written down a report of what she’d seen, plus a little extra fee if the customer wanted an oral explanation. No refund. The side effects to Fortuna’s full-time job were her under-eye shadows and her light but chronic doziness from always taking sleeping pills. But it was not to worry too much; the pills were perfectly harmless and healthy. Nonetheless, all of Fortuna’s predictions were true or partly true, and Narcolia took her dreams seriously, because if something dangerous was about to happen, even if it was a false prediction, he would be at least ready to prevent it.    

Lately, Fortuna had dreamt about the end of the world, and the accuracy and graveness of her explication made it almost impossible not to take it seriously. The only thing she was absolutely sure about was an explosion on Nemus and that Lizaross was involved, which made it totally believable and unsurprising. Narcolia had been busy ever since he learned about Fortuna’s dream. He had to warn the Nemusian Defence about increased security and surveillance around Lizaross. They needed to be ready at any moment for a surprise attack. The date was unclear but it was guaranteed to be in this month since Fortuna could not predict any farther. The tricky part about keeping watch on Lizaross was that they could observe from many planets, including their own, but they could not go on Lizaross itself because any foreign species were absolutely forbidden to go on the planet. The planet was strictly under watch and guarded all over. With their superior technology it was almost impossible to infiltrate the planet. Only a very lucky or skilled nemusian, with his Birth Power, could be able to infiltrate the security. The whole planet was surrounded by a radar force field in which the alarm would go on if something went through.  The lizaards could then track the intruder down and kill him with the latest gadgets and machinery. Even if someone would successfully pass through the force field, another troop of merciless warriors were guarding every corner of the planet, trained only to wait and kill any trespassing intruder. A nemusian with the ability of invisibility, transformation or teleportation would be able to pass through the radar field, but then came the problem of the planet’s toxins, in which the only organism able to breath it harmlessly were the lizaards themselves. The conditions were far too dangerous for Nemus to have advantage on the offense; it would only waste soldiers’ lives to go and try an assault. Their only plan, which had always been successful up to now, was to defend their planet, on their planet. This time though, it was hard to believe it would work so simply. According to Fortuna, defending the planet would not be enough, and infiltrating Lizaross was considered a suicide mission.

The Nemusian Defence was watching Lizaross restlessly from many different angles on many different planets, trying to prevent any sort of lizaard intrusion on any planet, and perhaps luckily, destroy assault ships that tried to reach Nemus’s orbit. The Visionaries kept watch day and night, the Capers were soaring the skies for a map view of the planet and to spot lizaard aircrafts or other UFOs. Stoners were guarding entries everywhere, and Shooters were scattered absolutely everywhere, accompanying every soldier and other military troops in duty. Every private was at his or her place until order from the King to do otherwise. Telepaths from the Defence would notify the King as soon as something unusual would happen. Plans were still in progress, being formulated by Intellos.

Narcolia had not stopped working, going to meetings, moving to multiple parts of the world, sometimes even going on other planets to help and organize the militia, and to reassure civilizations everywhere with speeches, assemblies and events. During his spare time, he had to take care of the house and look after Sajona. He loved his wife and great expectations for his future son, and so he took good care of Sajona while she was pregnant.  His wife was gone for the week-end to enjoy the annual Fire Show in a city outside of the province. Narcolia was relieved and finally decided to take it smooth while she was absent.  He had been on his couch all week-end, watching the sports channel, eating pizza and drinking beer. Not very healthy for a king, but hey, days are long for an eternal being. He knew he still had lots of time for exercise. He wasn’t expecting visit at all, so the living room was in turmoil.

He nearly fell asleep that night over the Bin-Disc game going live on T.V. His beer started slowing his brain and making his body feel a little numb. The control of his fingers, and his whole bodily coordination was pretty off beat, and it made him unconsciously let go of his slice of pizza on the floor. He started dozing off, feeling his being float into the dimension of unreality and insobriety as he closed his eyes, thinking out all the issues and personal problems of the contemporary world, when Visho Vewtifo, his old friend and careful advisor, entered the living room. Visho had been invited to live in the house with Narcolia’s family six years ago when his family and house had been destroyed in a war against the planet U-Mos. U-Mos used to be a very peaceful and welcoming planet, until it got colonized by Lizaross.

“Whaaaat...” Narcolia moaned back. Visho scrutinized his fellow friend here, the “Hero” and King of Nemus, with a red Bin-Disc jersey sporting the Wind Scars’ team logo and the number 03, which respectively was the best Bin-Disc team and the best player, according to Narcolia. Traces of sauce and beer were apparent on his shirt, the same shirt he’d been wearing for three days. Even though he’d built up quite a surprising belly from only the past week, he was still as muscular as ever, and his abs showed through his beer belly, which didn’t make it more appealing. He wore his black and loose Gwaja pants, resembling a pair of pants used by Kung-Fu practitioners on Earth. Gwaja was also a martial art, native of the planet Jirsk, from the Jeyjin race. It was brought to Nemus during the immigration and it grew to be quite popular. Practitioner of many martial arts, the one Narcolia had the most experience in was Gwaja, and he wore the pants in honor of all the reptilian asses he kicked back in the old days. Now that he had yet another wife and another upcoming son, he once again had to calm down on the a*s-kicking and going to war and stuff, for the sake of family and to reassure Sajona, because as she had mentioned several times, even though he was immortal, he could still be cut down or blown to pieces, and she wanted to be married with one, whole, husband…not pieces of a man. Narcolia was accustomed to the usual ‘Our son needs a father’, or ‘Don’t you think of how I’m going to feel if you don’t come back?’ and all the rambling of the such, being repeated in multiple versions by all the several wives he’d had in his life. But of course, they were allowed to die, because after a while, they had to. The King had deep chestnut eyes with long, brown and curly hair, going down to about the middle of his back, in which he tied up in a clean, puffy ponytail. Narcolia was not an alcoholic. He was only alcoholic in times of crisis, and in thousands of years, especially in this galaxy of good and evil, times of crisis did happen. With the way he looked at Visho, plus with his mouth half-open, he looked pretty alcoholic, but he was more tired than anything else. Visho entered the living room and said, “Narco, it’s a mess in here. I am not helping you clean this crap. Lady Fortuna’s here. She has news for you.”

“Oh, sure!” He woke up instantly, “C’mon, let her in.”

Fortuna entered the room with awoken eyes, which was quite unusual.  She headed straight to the guest’s sofa in front of Narcolia’s, looking for an empty seat. “Excuse me for interrupting you, Narco, but I have dreamt about terrible upcoming events.” Fortuna started.

“Yes of course, Fortuna, you always fill me in with bad news.” Narcolia said smiling, “Come ‘n take a seat. Just throw that stuff on the floor; I’ll pick it up later.”

After tossing aside a pizza box, some folders and what seemed to be a portable computer, she sat on the sofa, took a couple of breaths, and then started smoothly so as not to cause any panic. “So, your wife’s gone to the Fire Show this year, right?”

Narcolia grinned and replied, “She’s right there at the moment, actually! You probably dreamed about that, didn’t you?

“Not at all, I just need to see the condition of this room to presume Sajona hasn’t been here for a while.”

“Oh�"that Visho ey? These youngsters always keep their stuff lying around. Nothing tames ‘em.”

She giggled and said, “I know that from your eyes everyone’s young, Narco, but Visho’s like, 40 years old now, he’s not that much of a young person anymore.”

“Well anyways, the Space Bombs have been pretty high recently, and guess what’s the only team who beat them this month?”

Fortuna, who didn’t even know what sport he even talked about, took a guess by looking at Narcolia’s shirt. “Wind Scars?”

“That’s right! 8-0. Simply dominated. Valapias just slipped past the defense and made the back-hand spin toss all across the quarter field, and then came out of nowhere Jalak in a dive to alley-hoop the disc and that marked the first point. That goal put the Space Bombs’ moral down instantly!  You should’ve seen the look on their faces!”

“I came here because I had bad news.” She began, “I’m really sorry, but I had a dream last night, and this is an emergency.”

Narcolia then remembered he was a king. “Whoa now, relax… tell me what’s wrong and I’ll help you figure it out.”

“Like I informed you last time, my dream had foretold the end of Daï-Taï for this month.”

“It’s about that explosion, right?”

“Indeed, my predictions weren’t precise--”

“You mustn’t worry too much about all that, Fortuna,” He interjected, “I’m prepared for this. Ya know, I’ve been busy all week gathering the army and all the necessary stuff. Only thing not ready yet is the official plan that Stine is workin’ on but it’ll be ready in a day or two. We even organized this elite team of Visionaries looking everywhere on the planet and in the sky for lizaard signs. And guess what, that team is conducted by Visho himself.”

“You really trust Visho’s vision.”

“Well he is claimed as the best Visionary in the world right now because of his military accomplishments, plus he’s an ol’ buddy of mine and I’ve seen his talent many times, like when he spies on naked chicks from unimaginable places.”

“Shut the hell up Narco you don’t even know what you’re talkin’ about, we know who’s the real perv here!” Visho called out from the kitchen.

“You shut up Visho you have no class talking about such things. Can’t you see I’m having serious talk with a lady, where is your dignity?”

“You’re a dickhead, that’s what you are.”

“Young people and their bad manners.” Narcolia whispered to Fortuna, forcing himself not to reply with something grotesque. “Anyways, the end of the galaxy and what what… I’m all ears, madam.”

“…They’re striking tomorrow.” She said, with no sign of sarcasm. Narcolia then waited for her to say “I’m kidding!”, but instead it was a long, awkward silence.

“Repeat that.”

“I had another dream today. While trying to dream to tell someone’s fortune, I forgot to sleep with the object he gave me, and instead of seeing his future, I saw the future of the world again, no, the future of the whole galaxy.”

“Things have gotten a tad worse?”

“I had the same dream as last time, sir, but this time I actually saw the date. And it’s on the 6th, on the month of Kwongo, which is tomorrow.”

“Holy s**t.”

“I know. I’m really sorry. I’m aware that my revelation is quite at the last minute, but I just dreamt about it, like, an hour ago and I came here as fast as I could.” Fortuna said, feeling scared and a little ashamed.

“It’s okay, hey, don’t worry! Don’t blame it on you, you’re still young! In my twenties, or what I remember of it, I was one of the most incompetent Portos out there. I actually needed a tutor because sometimes, I did not appear where I was supposed to. The tutor also referred me to a psychologist, saying that there was probably reason behind appearing at such, how to say…inappropriate places.” He shook his head and shivered a little. “…I could sure spare myself from seeing those again.” He muttered to himself.

“So are you trying to send me a message?” She answered, laughing, trying to ignore the fact that everybody was going to die soon.

“Yeah, kinda.  It means that…” and then he paused so as to try to remember the moral of his story. “Go on. End of the world, tomorrow and stuff?”

“Oh, and like I said, it’s not only this planet that’s in danger.”

“Really.”

“The whole galaxy will explode.”

“Sure is the detail.” He took a beer on the table in front of him and chugged it. “He swallowed, and then added, “I really wasn’t prepared for such a declaration, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Fortuna acknowledged, “I’m probably getting a good glass of wine myself once I get home.”

Narcolia smiled. “Fortuna, we’ll get through this, believe me. You’ll see what the Flawless Civilisation is all about.”

Fortuna smiled back. “I’ll be leaving now. I hope you’ll figure it out, Narco. You’re the Hero after all. We all believe in you.” She said, standing up from the couch, “You want me to throw those pizza boxes in the trash for you?”

“That’d be great.”

 Fortuna left the room, waved at Visho, and when he heard the entrance door open and close, Narcolia stood up from his couch. “Now we’re screwed. First off, I’ll go get Sajona and then call the Defence.” He started running to the kitchen, but then stopped. “She’ll go on forever about the living room.” He then took a whiff of his armpits. “I’ll at least wash myself.” He did need to look like someone you could believe in.

Visho was in the kitchen, making himself supper, and watching the Fire Show at the same time from the kitchen window. It was numerous miles away, even a continent away, but luckily, through the buildings, trees and other obstructions, he was able to find a little hole in which if he focused, he could see the show a little.

“Visho! Drop the hamburger; we’re goin’ to the Fire Show!” Narcolia said as he grabbed him by the sleeve.

“Man, if you keep stressing like this, you’ll get grey hair before your time.”

“My time was over a long time ago.”

 

***

 

Sajona Trotchyni was with her friends watching the show from the V.I.P seats. Being the wife of a king gave you the best seats everywhere. She found it a little unfair, but still she always accepted the offer. That was the price to pay for falling in love with the King of the world. She was from the sunny continent of Helsin, and so she had a natural tan that gave her an exotic look, and along with her narrow eyelids, small frame, and long, straight black hair, she would have really looked like a gorgeous young Thai woman on Earth.

Athletes were jumping and flipping from everywhere on the stage, while Fire-Breathers were making spectacular feats while shooting fire from every direction. Lighters were on all the corners shining on the artists to add color and brightness to the whole show. Even Foggers added a touch of beauty to the whole scene. Shooters were shooting bright and colourful projectiles in the air that looked like fireworks, and Fire-Shooters added to the flaming ambiance. Capers were flying around in circles carrying decorative ribbons while looping in the air, wearing fluorescent and flashing costumes to illuminate the dark night sky. The annual Fire Show was as fabulous as ever.

 People from all over the planet came to look at this international festival that celebrated all the planets that Nemus had saved from distress with their supernatural abilities. All those different nemusians reuniting for one show represented how all the different powers combined together can constitute so much beauty and order, but also how it can easily turn into chaos and confusion. Other planets had always wondered why Nemus has always been such a peaceful, orderly planet even though they had such colossal power. Rules and laws were so easy to break with all those endless possibilities of Birth Powers. But that was the secret that made Nemus such a wonderful place. Their pure hearts and logical minds knew that greed and selfishness would bring them and the whole planet to extinction. Nemus was one of the rare planets where its inhabitants were born with the idea of harmony already engraved in their minds. Without it, it would have never been possible to keep such a powerful planet stable and free from evil thoughts. Ever since the immigration, crimes did happen on Nemus. Now even nemusians started to do crimes, which made the situation dangerous. Because of that, devices called PUGs were invented and used by the police, the military and school teachers. Their purpose was to detect any kind of Birth Power. With PUGs, it was a lot easier to frame nemusian lawbreakers.

Narcolia didn’t go to the Fire Show anymore. He had seen hundreds of them in the past centuries and he knew the whole thing by heart. Anyhow, the Fire Show was always an excuse to be alone for a couple of days. He loved being with his wife, but a couple of days off surely were enjoyable from time to time.

The crowd was being entertained by the performers and cheers were heard from everywhere around the massive stage. One athlete was in the middle, diving in rings of fire that another man to the left was blowing out of his mouth. Another man was on the right shooting long ropes of fire from his chest at the middle athlete. The athlete was jumping through the rings while going over or under the stripes of fire. Not only was it a hard task by itself, but he was performing it by doing amazing flips and gymnastic moves that were splendid to the eye. A lot of people wondered how someone could pull stunts like that without any fear, but most of the time they used an athlete who was also a Fire-Breather, and therefore his body was resistant to fire. Missing a ring would only have been like passing through a hot current of air. The athlete somersaulted over three stripes of fire that were dangling under him like living jump ropes, and he then started running towards the final tiny ring of fire that was dashing in his direction. He stopped running for a half-second to get his timing right, and as he bent his legs to perform his dive, something grasped his shirt and pulled him backwards. He fell on his behind and the fiery ring passed over him, grazing his hair, then magically extinguished a little farther away.

“HOLD IT!” The King screamed, who was now in the middle of the stage, hands in the air, beside Visho, who had his head down, scratching it in embarrassment. Why did he always carry him in those situations? The crowd was silent for a moment and then made a synchronized groan of disappointment at Narcolia’s sudden interruption right in the heat of the performance.

“Okay, can someone pass me a mike here?” He asked to the people around him, who were confused. He looked at the gymnast he had pulled aside and told him that he was really sorry, that he really needed to get attention, and that it was the only thing he could think of at that moment. The host of the show lent him the microphone and before talking, Narcolia saw the whole mob of people looking at him as if he were an idiot. Even though it happened several times in his life, he still didn’t overly like the moments when he was stared down by hundreds of people who were supposed to praise him.

“Uh… okay, sorry to you all for jumping in the show.” He started, a little ashamed from all the ignoble eyes glaring at him, “Pretty impolite, I know, and I’m sure it was great like every other year.” He then saw his wife further ahead in the crowd, in the V.I.P seats. “Sajona, come here please, we’re leaving darling, we gotta go.”

“What is he doing?” A friend asked to Sajona, who was sitting beside her.

“He should have a viable explanation. I sure hope he does…” She said, embarrassed, while she went down the stairs to the average seats. She climbed up the stage, and Narcolia tried to grab her hand but his coordination was not at its best. He slipped up beside the hand three times, nearly tumbling over as he did, and so Sajona sighed and climbed up by herself.  

 “Narcolia, what’s this all about?”

“This time it really is important.”

“Yeah, that’s what you said last time too, and you do smell like alcohol.”

“Okay, listen up everybody!” He started in the mike, “I’m not sleepwalking like at the festival three months ago. It only happened once, gimme a break. This time it’s all true. Here’s the news: the lizaards are not going to destroy the world in a month!”

The crowd clapped to the glorious words of the King, but his speech was not over.

“Calm down everybody, I’m not finished. Please do not panic. I repeat, do not panic.” He then mumbled to himself, “S**t, how can I say this…”

The crowd was waiting for the King’s final words impatiently so they could finally watch the show again.

He raised his hands for silence and calm, even though it was already silent and calm. “Well look, it’s quite simple. The lizaards are not only going to destroy the world. It’s more like… the whole galaxy. And they’re striking tomorrow. The show is cancelled and… everybody get outta here. Maybe we’re all gonna die, but that’s just maybe.  Hide and go wherever is safest. But don’t panic-- He tried to say, but the crowd was already running everywhere as if acid rain was pouring down on them.

“It never works when I say ‘don’t panic’ ” He said to himself, wondering why he still kept saying it every time there was danger. Maybe he watched too much of those heroic movies where one man was trying to calm down a whole group of crazed citizens that had just learned about an upcoming catastrophe. But even in those movies, the phrase “Don’t panic” always seemed to get things worst. Maybe, just maybe, that the scene of the berserk crowd was the fun of it all.

“Wow, great line, Hero, couldn’t be any smoother.” Visho added.

“Shut up, I tried my best.”

“Narcolia, you’re serious?” Sajona asked, also getting filled with panic.

“Yes…I am. I’m sorry. Fortuna came with the news today. Getting you was my first priority.”

“But Narcolia, what happens if we don’t make it? Our son!”

“Whoa okay, stop it, everything’s fine. You’re starting to make me panic too.”

“Sorry to disturb, but why the hell did you bring me here for?” Visho asked, still waiting behind them.

“I didn’t want to be the only one on stage looking like an idiot. Okay?”

“No one even noticed me.”

“It still made me feel better. Let’s go.” He stated and then grabbed Visho’s and Sajona’s hand, and they all teleported back home.

As soon as they arrived at his house, Narco gave a passionate kiss to his wife, and then told Visho to call the Defence and look after Sajona while he was gone. “Honey, I have to leave. I think I can allow myself to say that the fate of the whole galaxy is on my shoulders.”

            “You’ve been drinking, haven’t you?”

            “It’s not like it’s gonna kill me.”

            “It sure gives you bad breath.”

            “I love you.” He said with his nicest smile, hoping she would forgive him for having bad breath right before engaging in the war of the end of the world.

            “I love you too.”

            And with that, Narcolia vanished with a poof of teleporting mist.

 

***

 

Narcolia walked up to the entry of the Nemusian Defence headquarters, called the Rectangular Prism. The crowd of loyal soldiers were lining up on each side of him, greeting him by crossing their arms and bowing their heads.

            “Welcome to the Prism, Sir,” One of the two gate guardians told the King as he approached the front gate. “They’re all waiting for you inside.”

            “Of course they are, they can’t do anything on their own.” He said and passed beside them, giving a smirk to the guardian on the right.

            All the soldiers’ PUGs were beeping violently, but it was normal, the King was immortal. Immortality was what they called an “indirect” or chronic Birth Power. That meant that contrarily to some other Birth Powers that could be used only when needed or wanted, immortality was always active, whether you needed it or not. The radiation produced by Birth Powers were what made the PUGs react, so every time someone would use their Birth Power, a nearby PUG could intercept its projected radiation. Every power had a different aura and that’s how the device was able to identify different specific Birth Powers. The problem with chronic Birth Powers were that since they were always active, radiation was always produced, therefore making PUGs react all the time near a person with a chronic Birth Power.

            “Didn’t you ask him for his identity?” One of the soldiers asked to the guardian that let Narcolia in.

            “…He’s the King. Everyone knows him.”

            “No no, rookie, the law’s the law. The King’s no exception.” Another soldier said, with the ancient doctrine of Nemusian egalitarianism in his mind.

            “I’m sorry guys, I’ve just never talked to Sir Nemacris before, and I was honoured… and a little stressed.”

            Sergeant Nash, one of the leading sergeants, walked up to the gate and faced the whole line of soldiers. “Men, we have all made an error, so don’t blame the novice. We haven’t even paid attention to our PUGs because of Sir Nemacris’ chronic Birth Power. Everyone check your PUGS right now.”

            All the soldiers got their PUGS out of their holsters. The gadget looked like a massive cellphone with a large touch screen covering the whole frontal area. They all looked at them, and none of them read “Immortality”.

            As Narcolia entered the door to the Prism, another guardian was there to greet him. “Welcome Sir Nemacris, please follow me. They’re up at the conference room.”

            “Quit following me, I’m not a kid, I won’t get lost. I’m in a real s****y mood right now. Just tell me where to go.”

            “Sir, I’ve been taught instructions and I have to escort you; that’s my job. You could always be in danger�"

            “Hey kid, have you forgotten I’m the one who makes the rules here? You’re a new guy, aren’t you?”

            “Yes, I’m still a trainee, Sir.”

            “Of course, that was all expected. All the elites are busy elsewhere watching out for Lizaross, aren’t they?”

“Um, yes, Sir, but hey, even though we’re apprentices we’ll try our best to do what we gotta do.” He said with a smile as he crossed his arms and bowed lightly.

“Go take a break, son. I’m sure you have better things to do than running your nose all over me. Go spy some suspicious kid instead.”

            “Yes, Sir.” He answered, crossing his arms with a questioning frown. The crossed arms were the equivalence of the human army soldiers raising their hand in front of their forehead when they answered to an order from their general. There were usually many more soldiers guarding the area, but today was quite special, and most of the Defence was up in the conference room, or on other planets, preparing for the war that was about to break out. This war was probably the most important of all, and they needed the best warriors they could have. The few new ones were handed the duty of keeping watch of the Prism. The death rate percentage of nemusian soldiers was very low due to their amazing skills on the battlefield, so they didn’t need new recruits often.

            “That’s right, you all just do what you gotta do.” He muttered with a grin while walking down the large, empty hallway. Every footstep he made echoed all around him, and the walls were made from the most impenetrable stones of the planet. “What’s this useless and endless hallway for?” Narcolia asked himself. The hallway was not only designed in a way that no one could break in, but also to imprison any intruders that tried to flee the edifice. There was no other exit than by that long hallway, which people called the Lonely Rectangle. It was nearly impossible to infiltrate the building anyway, but getting out was even harder. There were always possible faults and breaches somewhere in the security, so the Lonely Rectangle was made for the “what if” situations.

            The Lonely Rectangle had no windows or holes for air, and it was getting pretty hot and the air was thin. The King had a baggy number 03 long-sleeve sweater with Vava City’s Wind Scar team logo, the one he had kept on all week-end over his 03 Wind Scar jersey because he was too lazy to change himself, and it was his only sweater that was comfortable enough to sleep in and watch T.V with all day. With that sweater, the temperature was suffocating for a nemusian, but with his cold-blooded nature, he felt very comfortable. He squinted to see farther ahead and saw that two guards were positioned at the door at the end. “Ha, there it is.” He walked up to the end, restraining himself from running; he didn’t want to look too suspicious. He finally reached the end and one big door was standing in the middle, with two guards at each side. There were also four other guards; two at the left wall and the two others at the right wall. It did stress him a little, but he had planned all of this in advance, so there was no real threat of failure yet. “Good evening, boys…” He said as he passed by them, and moved on to push the big door open. Before he could even touch it, one guard had grabbed his shoulder, and shoved him a little backwards.

            “Excuse me?” Narcolia asked in an obliging tone.

            “Pardon me Sir, but you probably forgot,” The guard said in a friendly voice. “You need the pass, remember?” The other guards snickered to the fact that the King himself had forgotten about the pass, especially since it was such a simple rule, and even more embarrassing, the King himself had made it.

            “Oh, the pass, right…” He said to himself, looking downwards. This one’s not a new guy, he thought.

            “Ha-ha, good ol’ King.” He said, holding his hand over for Narcolia to give him his pass so he could slide it down the card slot that opened the door.

            “Well… bad news, boys. I don’t have it.” He stretched his arms out laterally, each arm pointing at one of the soldiers on the left and right wall. Steel darts shot out from Narcolia’s sleeves, ripping the sleeves to shreds as they launched and got both guards in the neck. The darts plunged in their necks, and injected a poison so toxic that as soon as the poison made contact with the blood inside the soldiers, their nervous and cardiovascular system would shut down, and make them drop to the floor in what seemed to be less than a second. The lizaards’ weapons were the finest, and their computer controlled aim was flawlessly accurate. As the two soldiers dropped dead, the four others took out their rifles and pointed at the target. Before they could even pull the trigger, thin, tiny needles started shooting out from Narcolia’s body in every direction for a mere, deadly second. As Narcolia’s clothes torn from all the needles shooting out of it, a metal suit covering his body was revealed. The suit had plenty of tiny little cannons and that was presumably where the detonating needles shot out from. The walls were filled with needles, except for the empty spaces where the four soldiers once stood. The two men guarding the door had their faces covered with the poisonous needles, and were slowly dying out of intolerable pain as they felt their facial skin burn and melt from the toxins of the needles. The two others had time to turn around, so they only had their rear covered with needles. Their bullet-proof overalls were starting to melt, and they knew that after the vest, the toxin would eat up every layer of their skin, and then feast on their flesh and bones. As a last resort before dying, the two terror-stricken men shot their guns everywhere around them, and multiple bullets caught Narcolia. As he got shot, he fell to his knees, and started to transform back to his original cold-blooded and cold-hearted lizaard form. His metal body suit had protected him from all vital places, and luckily enough, he hadn’t got shot in the head. His left arm was the only body part damaged from the dying soldiers’ reckless shooting. He was lying on the ground, catching his breath from the impact of all the bullets, when a whole other fleet entered the Lonely Rectangle and started shooting at him.

            “We got him, men! It’s a lizaard impersonator!” Nash yelled as he waved his arms as a signal to run forward and go on the offensive.

 

***

           

Some of the soldiers were still remaining outside to keep watch while the others went in to fight the infiltrating lizaard.

            “Argh!” One of the gatekeepers said, “I wanted to kick some a*s too!”

            “Man you can’t even do a simple job like guarding a gate, you really think they’d send you out there to get killed?” The other one replied, also jealous that he couldn’t go.

            “Hey, I could actually be of use you know. The strength in these arms is worth more than running around like a rabbit.”

            “What’s your strength good for if you can’t even catch up with my super speed?” The other said, circling him a couple of times at fifty kilometres an hour.

            “Coward.”

            “Shut up. Our chance to fight is not lost,” Another soldier jumped in. “Sergeant Nash told us that if we ever hear anything that ain’t good, we can barge in and help the team.”

            “Then let’s keep our ears peeled!”

            “Your eyes peeled, idiot. Let’s just listen for any bad sound, troop, okay?”

            “Roger that!” The whole fleet answered, crossing their arms.

            “Yo boys,” a familiar voice said, and the soldiers all turned around. “What’s the fuss about?”

“Sir Nemacris!”

“I’ve told you already, just call me Narcolia, or Narco if you’d�"

 Every soldier left lifted their guns, except for the Shooters that pointed with one of their hands. One Shooter actually lifted his leg in Narcolia’s direction. A Shooter was born with only one part of his body able to shoot a projectile. They couldn’t decide from which part of their body they wanted to shoot. Some would be born, only able to shoot from their foot, a hand, and even odd places like the mouth, elbow, knees, and some unnecessary places we don’t even have to mention. This particular soldier could shoot from his left leg.  That shooter actually took gymnastics classes for the sole reason of being flexible enough to be able to lift his leg high and long enough to shoot with it. One soldier checked out his PUG, and it was written “Immortality”.

They all dropped down their guns. And hands. And leg. One of the soldiers ran to him, looking very alarmed, and said, “Some guy came in and he looks just like you!”

            “Oh really, and who is he?”

            “We don’t know Sir, according to our PUGs, that person used metamorphosis to look like you.”

            “I see, then why the F**K did you let him in?”

            All the soldiers swiftly turned around and the clanking of diverse armours was heard in the silence as they all pointed at one lone gate guardian.

            “H-hey! I’m just a novice Sir! I was too stressed--I’m sorry.”

            “It’s okay comrade, just hope we won’t die of a sudden explosion because of… you.” He said jokingly, but seriously. “Wanna make it up to me?” Go prove that lizaard that you’ve got some man in you.”

            “Really? I can go join them inside?” He asked with a child’s joy in his eyes.

            “Come on, go go! You suck as a gate guardian anyway.”

            The gate guardian headed for the Prism’s entry door running, and in the meanwhile, other soldiers had questions for the King.

 

***

 

            The lizaard did not even have time to get back on his feet that all the soldiers started shooting projectiles. As an emergency he stuck almost all of his bones out, shielding most of his body. It was not the most secure shield, and his bones were not protecting his whole body, but it sure decreased the frequency of the hits. One thing for sure, most of the projectiles wouldn’t even damage his bones.

 Lizaard bones were the most robust material that had ever been discovered up to now. They were used for buildings, weapons and miscellaneous products throughout Lizaross due to its long-lasting, infrangible nature. Of course, some projectiles were so strong that it still did give a small amount of damage to lizaard bones, but still, it was a lengthy pain to break through.

 The lizaard was curled into a ball, surrounded by millions of miniscule stuck-out bones, forming into bigger bones which made up a sort of body armor. Curled up, he waited for the assault to cease. He still got damaged by some flames, some beams of electricity, and even exploding capsules containing pure acid, coming out of all the diverse nemusian shooters or weapons, but if it were not for his bones covering him, he would have been fried a long time ago. He dislocated his bones in a manner that now it would only cover the front of him as he tried to stand up. It was meaningless for him to cover his back now, as his back was facing the needle-filled wall where the big sealed door to the conference room was, and no soldier, except the ones that he had eliminated, were behind him. In other words, he was cornered. The lizaard was bleeding from everywhere, and he was terribly wounded by all the attacks that had passed through the fissures of his bone-shield. But all this was part of the plan. He had to patient even more. He needed to wait until every single trooper entered the Lonely Rectangle. The group of about fifteen soldiers were shooting endlessly at the defending lizaard. He was becoming weaker and weaker, and his bones were cracking and breaking from the shots. He had burns, molten skin, scratches, bullet shots and all sorts of injuries, but he did not give up hope. He was trained for endurance. He was born for the very reason of this moment. He had to give everything he had. He backed up to the steel door behind him more and more, and there was so much noise from all the shooting that the lizaard couldn’t even hear anymore. Either his eardrums had busted from too much noise, or that he got shot in the ear by one of the many different projectiles. His bone-shield was rattling and he could feel the pain of his bones cracking up, and he knew that his bones wouldn’t last for long before he were completely nude to the projectiles. If he would use his back-up bones to form a shield, he would become boneless, soft and immobile like a doll. The rattling of his bones and the shaking ground suddenly came to an end. When he opened his eyes to peek through the openings of his bone-shield, he felt an arm circling his neck from behind and then strangling him.

            “Remember me, b***h? I’m a Stoner, in case you didn’t know. Those needles only hit me like acupuncture through a thick blanket.” Said one of the six fallen soldiers while keeping the lizaard in a stranglehold.

            “I must assume you’ll finish me off now, b***h?” The lizaard answered back.

            “Now we’re talkin’!” He said, as his other hand plunged a knife up the weakened creature’s back, then lifting it along the spine and up to the back of its neck.

            “That’s my favourite part.” The lizaard wheezed out with a smirk.

            Sergeant Nash noticed the remote in the lizaard’s hand and yelled out, “Everyone, take cover!”

 

 

***

 

“Sir, did you say lizaard?” One of them asked.

            “What else may it be? They’re the ones striking tomorrow.” He faced all the soldiers to be sure that everyone would understand. “Lizaards now have the power to mimic our Birth Powers. During our latest wars, they’ve been secretly taking DNA samples off of dead people, and they inject that DNA into themselves.”

            “But then soon enough, those freaks’ll be as strong as us! Maybe even stronger if they inject themselves with more than one power!”

“Don’t worry ‘bout that, a Birth Power is way too overwhelming for a normal being to possess more than one! Except for I,” He stated with a proud smile, “They would only explode or have a heart attack in the process or something of the sort, according to this scientist I know. And anyways, one DNA sample is only good for one lizaard, so it’d take a whole lot of dead bodies to make an army of nemu-lizaards.”

“Nemu-lizaards?”

“That’s how I call ‘em. Awesome, right?”

To the soldiers’ and Narcolia’s surprise, a tremendous ear-breaking noise occurred, and the Prism’s entry door blasted open, with a huge cloud of fire and smoke coming out. Chunks of the metal door, followed by chunks of the anxious gate guardian that Narcolia had just commanded to go fight, were spat out and flying in every direction. The soldiers ducked and dived, while some, more agile because of certain Birth Powers, just weaved and slipped through the flying rubbish as if it were an insane Kung-Fu kata. Some disappeared, some created force fields, and some turned into stone. Some of them even stood there as the projectiles just went right through them as if it had passed through thin air.

“Holy smokin’ t**d! Get in there and kill the infiltrator if he’s not already dead!” Narcolia cried. “You!” He pointed at a running soldier that passed by, “Call the ambulance, I don’t know why but I’m pretty sure that there’s some cleaning to do.”

 He then focused his mind on a single scene, and transported himself into the Lonely Rectangle. Inside the hallway, there were at least six dead bodies, and some were only parts of bodies. There was blood everywhere at the end of the hallway, and pieces of clothing, armour and weaponry were scattered all across the Lonely Rectangle. The lizaard was blown to pieces and Narcolia had landed right on a part of its tail after the process of his teleportation. The grey walls were now covered in black ashes and stains of blood. It smelled horrible: not only did it smell like decapitated corps, it smelled like roasted decapitated corps. Five soldiers were still standing from the explosion, including Sergeant Nash. One of them could turn into a projection of himself and so the explosion just passed through him, and Nash was fireproof. The blow still squashed him to the wall, and he broke his right arm and clavicle when he pounded in one of the walls. He was still lucky that he had survived from the impact. The two others were Morphos, so one had transformed into a steel pillar while the other one was too much in a hurry to think thoroughly so he had transformed into a lunch box, which would have not saved him at all if it hadn’t been for his big steel pillar friend who covered him. The last survivor was the Stoner guard that had got the lizaard from behind, but the arm he had held the creature with was now blown off. Luckily, he could turn his amputated arm into rock and stop the bleeding. “Are you guys alright? What the hell happened here?” Narcolia asked, holding his hand over his nose.

One of the soldiers tried explaining, but Narcolia had to interrupt him by gagging and throwing up.

“Gosh, I don’t know how you do it, but I can’t stand that damn stench!”

The big steel door leading to the underground conference room opened, and hundreds of soldiers came out of the room, all of them armed and ready, and at the same time, all the remaining soldiers from outside stepped in by the entry to the Lonely Rectangle. The place was full and there was no place to move.

“You’re all late the fight’s over, damn it!” Narcolia screamed in anger.

There was a moment of silence, and then in an instant, almost everyone heaved their stomach fluids out and headed to the exit.

Everybody was outside the gate, recuperating from the scene and smell that they had just witnessed.

“This is ridiculous! How much trouble can one lizaard cause? We’re about 200 soldiers here!”

“Sir! We were waiting for you in the conference room to elaborate our final defense plan. We then heard a big explosion and that’s when we grabbed our guns and ran upstairs.”  A soldier said.

“Same here Sir! We heard the ruckus and then you told us to come in and help!”

“And most of the guards here are trainees.”

“This…was all planned out to the detail. These lizaards get scarier every time we meet.”

A voice rushed through Narcolia’s head. “Sir Nemacris…” It was probably the news of a Telepath officer on martial duty around the world.

“Yeah, Narco here.” He said, closing his eyes and trying to concentrate. “Quiet everyone; I’m receiving a message from a Telepath soldier.”

“This is officer Takama from Base 7. Has anybody been receiving our distress calls?” The Telepath said.

“I’m sorry, probably not, they were ALL busy shooting at one lizaard at the same time!”

“We’re under attack Sir, they’re all over the globe. I don’t know what the hell you were all doing, but this is an emergency we’re not enough units! We need reinforcements!!”

“Weren’t they supposed to strike tomorrow?”

“We’ve been tomorrow for like, twenty minutes sir; it’s a little past midnight. We did not think they’d strike so soon either.”

“Damn it! Have you tried to communicate with the other bases?

“All the other bases are also not responding, Sir.”

“What the hell’s going on? End of message! We’re coming to help y’all in an instant!”

“Oh yeah, there’s this message from Base 9 saying they got attacked… by you, Sir, I don’t know how it could be-- The Telepath started, but the message disconnected because Narcolia was pounding on a wall.

“The whole planet’s under invasion! F**k! Comrades, it’s time to use our emergency plan we have all trained for. Everybody do what you gotta do!”

The soldiers, knowing naught where to go, left off from every direction in hope of saving the galaxy.

“I gotta go home and get the wife.” The King told himself, and then immediately disappeared with a poof of mist.

 

***

 

Narcolia reappeared in a pile of destroyed brick, rocks, melted metal, and burnt wood. Smoke was still seaming out of the huge mess.

“Huh? What’s this place?” He asked, looking around him. It had been at least 200 years since he had made his last teleportation mistake. But when he noticed his frisbee crumpled up against some bricks, he realised it wasn’t a mistake.

He kicked on the rocks he was walking on, trying to regain focus on the task at hand. The huge house he and his wife had worked on so hard to decorate, and of course, Narcolia had no choice in the colors or styles, but had the choice to both agree and help her with her renovation ideas, or have no sex for at least a month …and what if Sajona was still in the house when it got destroyed? As the thought rushed through his mind he suddenly felt overwhelmed with panic. No matter how many houses, wives, sons, friends and loved ones he had lost during his ever-lasting life, it affected him every time he lost another one.

“Sajona!” He screamed as he dug up under the rocks, throwing them ragingly behind him. The rocks were still incredibly hot, but the adrenaline of his body made him forget any sort of pain as his emotions towards his loving wife and baby took possession of him.

“Narco!” He heard behind him. It was a faint sound, probably coming from under the rocks, but he wasn’t relieved at all to hear it was a man’s voice. Then he had remembered the man that had always stood up for him during the last twenty years, helping him when he needed to. The man he had hosted in his house when he was in a moment of crisis. “Visho, buddy! You alright?”

“Kinda stuck here…can’t feel most of my body,” He groaned through the numerous rocks he was trapped under, “But hey, top shape.”

“Ha-ha, can’t believe you survived that. Where are you man?” Visho did not answer, but someone else responded in his place.

“We finally meet for the last time, good old king…” Another familiar voice said. Narcolia couldn’t see from where the voice came from because of all the smoke coming out from the destroyed house, but he could easily recognize whose voice it was. He had seen many generations of the King Rosayan, and they absolutely all looked the same, and sounded the same.

“Rosayan, good timing. If I didn’t know better, I’d bet you’re the cause of this.”

“How could someone else do such a terrible thing, right?” Rosayan the lizaard king said, gun in hand, now revealing himself from the smoke, clambering down on the rocks with his jet-pack boots. “You got me. I’m guilty.” He said in a mockingly dramatic way, pointing his gun to a pile of house debris. He shot a laser beam to the pile, which formed a small puddle of magma, and then a black hole of ashes.

“That Visho… a very considerate friend, right? He’s the reason I still haven’t killed your wife.” Rosayan said, as he pointed his gun to Narcolia, who was a couple meters away.

Narcolia suddenly disappeared and then reappeared again face to face with his nemesis. He threw him to the ground, holding him there while holding his gun down with one hand, and holding his throat with the other. A tear ran down his cheek as he tried to erase the sadness of his lost friend and change it into fury.

“Where is my wife, you heartless a*****e!” He said, trying hard not to stutter from the loss of emotional control.

“To be blunt, I’m looking for her myself.”

 “You just killed my best friend!”

“I did, ey? He could’ve stayed alive if he hadn’t been in the way. You know how unpleasant it is for me to talk from this close? Your hand on my neck doesn’t help me either, Narcolia. I will take it off.” Three spike-shaped bones extruded out from Rosayan’s chest and dug right through Narcolia’s.

“Now let’s see you try and find your wife in this condition. I suggest a race, for the thrill of it. First one to find her keeps the baby, sounds fair?” Rosayan said, and then pushed Narcolia to the side with his knees.

“You won’t get away with this, Rosayan. We’re stronger than you and you know it!” Narcolia replied in agony, lying on the hot rocks that were beneath him.

“Unfortunately, I do know that. Look around, Narcolia, we are getting our arses kicked like the usual. But see, while your boys are busy fighting my boys, it just buys us time for the bomb to detonate. You can look for it all you want, you’ll never find it. It’s not even here on this planet. There’s no point in fleeing, we destroyed all the ships on every planet, on yours and on ours too. Don’t worry, we thought it through. The whole galaxy is under assault. We gathered lizaards from every corner of the universe for this very moment. With honor, we will die together, and see each other back in hell!” He blasted off with his jet-pack boots, laughing cynically as he zoomed away.

“You call that honor?” Narcolia cried through his pain, trying to lift himself off the ground. “Sajona… where are you?” The rocks he laid on were burning through his clothes, and even though they slowly cooled down, it was still burning his forearms as he pushed himself up. Luckily, throughout the centuries he had learned to ignore pain to a certain degree, and so he desperately tried to move on, forgetting the three gaps in his chest, hardly breathing through his pierced lungs. Immortals actually didn’t even have to breathe, but it was a natural inborn reflex, and not breathing would be as painful as drowning and even more painful because he would never die, so the pain would continue on until he would catch his breath again.

He had no idea where Sajona was, and warping all over the planet in this situation would do nothing. He had to find a Healer.  He warped to a nearby hospital, but it was already ravaged by the lizaards. The next one was luckily still under protection of the Defence. He entered the building and then fell on his four legs, and screamed to get immediate help. Nemusian hospitals functioned similarly to Earth’s. Even though most doctors had the power of healing, they could only heal certain injuries or diseases, and sometimes doctors with specific healing powers were not always available. Specific Birth Powers for specific injuries or diseases were hard to find. On the other hand, most hospitals had open wound healers; it was a more common type of healing Birth Power. “Sir Narcolia?! We’ll get you healed in an instant.” One nurse said as she grabbed a wheel chair and shovelled Narcolia in it, and then pushed the wheel chair to the nearest empty room. She tried to lift him off the wheel chair and onto the bed, but Narcolia insisted that he could do it on his own.

“I’ll go get Dr. Rekowe. I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

 

***

 

“He’s in the hospital with his wife, Master.”

“And how can you be sure about that?”

“We stole this device from a nemusian soldier. After analyzing it, we were able to understand it, play with it a little, and make it track immortality. It read immortality when we got close to the building.”

            “…And?”

“His wife is able to repulse electricity right? We also searched for the repellence power. We found it in the same building. The coincidence was strong, so we took a look through the walls with the X60 Lens, and there they were.”

“Hmm... so he beat me to the game.”

“Maybe not, Master. They’re both injured, and in different rooms. Maybe they don’t even know they’re both there.”

“If so, that would be perfect. Well then, bomb the place up, kill the survivors.”

“The nemusian forces are too strong in the area.”

“I think that’ll help you get… unnoticed.” He said with a wink. He lifted his shirt, and showed his belt filled with sirens. “This is the nemusian Birth Power of invisibility. It’ll be more than easy to set a bomb in there. After that, kill the woman. I want this king to suffer as much as possible before the explosion.”

 

 

***

 

“Good galaxies, Narcolia. You always come back here in the worst shape, don’t you?” Dr. Rekowe said, and then placed his palm on Narcolia’s chest. His injuries slowly started disappearing, and Narcolia’s breathing went back to its normal rate. Fortunately, Dr. Rekowe’s healing took only a few minutes. Depending on the adeptness and the limit of a Birth Power, some healers could take an hour to treat a single wound.

“I couldn’t thank you enough, doctor. I know you have to tell me to rest for a while, but you gotta know, it’s kinda the end of the world right now.” He got back up and opened the door to head out.

“Narcolia. I figure it is important to tell you that your wife’s here.”

“What? Really? Thank goodness, is she alright? What happened to her?”

“Yes she is, don’t worry. She got shot in the back by a lizaard, but a civilian was close enough to kill the monster and bring her here. She’s healed and sleeping.”

“You gotta lemme see her, she’s in danger, we have to put her in a safe place!”

“She has to rest, sir, she’s not as strong as you. And this is a safe place after all. The whole building is covered by the Defence. You can still go see her though, that’s not a problem.”

“Whatever. Just bring me to the room.”

 

***

 

The lizaard was wandering through the devastating fight between two worlds, covering himself with his arms and running as close as possible from the building. A massive wall of nemusian soldiers was surrounding the area, and most of them were Stoners. He also knew that as soon as he turned invisible, the PUGs would beep violently. His job had to be done fast.  “Hey!” He screamed to a swarm of defending soldiers. He ran towards one of the soldiers and raised his arms as if he would strike him with his claws, and as soon as he did, one soldier lifted his gun, the other lifted his hand, and the last one opened his mouth, presumably preparing to shoot something out of it.

Before the soldiers could shoot, the lizaard turned invisible and ducked to be safe in case they would shoot anyways. He agilely slithered between the soldiers’ legs by crawling through them, and he quickly ran to the wall of the hospital before the soldiers would get their PUGs out and track him back. He ran along the wall of the building, sticking small bombs on the wall in a line as he passed by. The soldiers quickly forgot about the lizaard and immediately got their attention on the suddenly appearing bombs clinging to the treasured building.

“Take cover!!!” The mouth-shooting soldier screamed, and they all ran off, or used their diverse powers to defend against the upcoming explosion.

“F**k! How did those fiends get so tough?” One of the soldiers screamed through the explosion, crouched behind another building’s mausoleum to protect himself from all the flying debris.

“Boom, boom, boom! Wonderful!”  The lizaard said to himself as he watched the mighty explosion from far away.

 As soon as he finished watching the show, he got caught from behind, and before he could push himself free, two hands got hold of his head. He only felt a crack along his spine with a flash of many different colors before he noticed his head was twisted around, and his vision then quickly faded to black. As he crumpled to the floor, Narcolia took the lizaard’s gun just in case, and ran for the collapsed hospital that he had just warped out from, hoping to find any survivor, but especially to find Sajona.

“Give me that!” Narcolia barked at a soldier as he yanked the PUG out of his holster. He searched around for a sign of repellence on the PUG, which was also a chronic power, and walked through the ruins of the hospital, relying on the device. He stepped on a hand, and he quickly bent down to remove all the desks, chairs and all sorts of rubbish from the explosion and dug up an unconscious, blood-covered doctor. His face was seriously burnt, and if it weren’t for his slow breathing, Narcolia would have been sure his game was over.

“Horrible…” He said, looking helplessly at the dying doctor.  The sight of the severely injured man had made him ignore the loud beeping of the PUG. He then popped out of his bubble and looked at the device, which indicated that a repellence Birth Power was very near. He started tossing away rubble where the mark on the PUG indicated, and he finally found his dear wife, almost in the same condition as the doctor.

“Oh no!” He burst out, and then fell to his knees, yielding to the site of another wife dying right in front of him. “Sajona, honey! You can’t leave me right now! We still have a long way together!” A few tears dripped down his cheeks, landing on his unrecognizable spouse who was burnt and covered in ashes and blood. “If only…if only I had made it to your room a little sooner, this is all my fault!”

“Narcolia…” She managed to moan.

“I won’t let this happen to you, Sajona. All we have lived through together!” As a reflex he immediately thought of the injured medic. “Hang on sweetheart, I’ll save you!”

“Our son…” She whispered, but Narcolia was already gone.

He ran back to the doctor, who was just a couple feet away, and kneeled before him. “Doctor, please, I beg of you. I know you’re hurt and I can’t do anything for you, but please, try to use your powers on my wife. It’s Narcolia, the King of Nemus!” There was no response. “I can’t do anything, I’m sorry! Please! Can you do one last effort before leaving this world? It could save our race! Doctor!” He shook him roughly, but he saw it was meaningless, and that he was not even breathing anymore. “F**k!” He screamed in despair.

He went back to his wife, and shook her up a little when he saw that she was closing her eyes. “Sajona, don’t leave, you can do it!”

“Narco, the baby… You can save him…” She said in a low scratchy voice.

“But…how?” He was too emotionally overwhelmed to think straight, but then simplicity came back to his mind. Right, there is a chance! He thought out loud. With a lot of concentration, he placed the palm of his hand on Sajona’s belly, closed his eyes and thought deeply. “A planet out of this galaxy, a planet out of this galaxy…far enough and out of danger…” He tried to recall all the planets he had visited that had a species structured with a similar biology to that of nemusians. The sounds of guns, screams and explosions were distracting him dramatically, but it was his last resort. He had to focus. The chances were nimble for it to work in such circumstances, but his Birth Power had thousands of years of experience behind it; his limits were unconceivable. Even if this attempt was beyond his limit, it would be pathetic to give up without even trying. A word suddenly clicked to his mind, and he then focused on an oblivious, faraway place he had already visited before, long, long ago. “Earth,” He said out loud.

“What did you say?” An evil voice asked behind him.

“Does that actually make you happy, Rosayan?” He asked, trying to hold in his anger, “What else do you want from me?”

“Before we die, I just wanted to let you know your infiltration squad on Lizaross won’t find anything.”

“So you know about the infiltration squad.”

“I’m idiot-proof, you know. Your squad won’t find anything.”

“Hidden somewhere underground, perhaps?”

“Or maybe even… on another planet. Never thought about that, hm?” He stated with his sinister trademark smile.

“Of course. Worthy of your reputation.”

“Planet Igedow, the farthest planet from Nemus in this galaxy. Even if you’d have tried to make it up to there, I’m not sure you would’ve made it in time.”

“Fortuna was right.” He groaned, deceived, “She did say it was going to be the end of the galaxy.” Throughout the whole discussion, Narcolia kept his eyes closed, deeply focused on something that Rosayan couldn’t quite figure out. He kept talking to buy time. “So you actually went to the point of destroying your own planet just to get the last word.”

“Many lizaards from all over the universe have come back to this galaxy to make sure that no nemusian would flee, and we all know that nemusian Portos don’t live long enough to master the ability of transporting all the way to another galaxy. That is, except you, of course, but you were too foolish and instead of trying to save yourself, you tried to save everyone else. And so, your species will finally be brought to extinction.”

“I still have time to teleport and you know that.”

“Come on, as if you’d do that.” He snickered, “You would let your people die due to your failure and then save yourself?” He was right. There was no way he could live knowing he had abandoned his nation. He would stay with them until the very end. “And for the few nemusians left scattered in the universe, they will die from age sooner or later, most of them without having reproduced any purebred offspring. There will never be enough Birth-Powered descendants left to build back a population able to stop us.”

“You’ve brilliantly thought it all out, it seems.”

“The bomb is about to explode in ten minutes. Have any unfinished business before the whole nemusian race finally comes to extinction?”

Narcolia suddenly smiled. “Nope, I’ve just finished the very last thing.”

“Hm?” His trademark smirk had suddenly transformed into a frown.

“One tiny nemusian will keep living on, far away, far from any lizaard’s reach.” His hand still on Sajona’s belly, a sudden emerald green light sparkled around his hand, and Sajona’s belly began to flatten. Sajona smiled and closed her eyes, and for her last words before dying she said, “I love you, Narcolia.”

 “Huh! So what? We all know that nemusians can’t have Birth-Powered offspring if they reproduce with other species. He’ll just die off, unable to do anything about our rule over the universe.” He said to reassure himself.

It was now Narcolia’s turn to grin. “So what? Let me tell you what: I will die knowing I was at least able to save my own son. He will remain the living proof that your plan was actually a failure, since it was supposed to kill everyone on this planet. You may be able to destroy a whole galaxy and billions of people, but in the end, you can’t even defeat the family of your worse enemy. Who knows, maybe this boy will become powerful enough one day to gather an army and protect the universe from your filthy ideals!” He then added with a wink, “If we’re lucky, he may even be immortal, just like me.”

“Impossible!” Rosayan roared out of anger. He hurriedly pulled out his belt equipped with many sirens, threw a bunch out in a rush until he found the one he needed.

“Just what if… you know, what if the lizaards actually get exterminated because of this one last nemusian you couldn’t put your hands on?. What can you do now?” The nemusian king asked.

“This is not over!” Rosayan revoked, and then stuck the siren in his arm.

“I didn’t save the universe, Rosayan. So after all, I’m not the Hero spoken of in legends, like everyone claims I am. But the future has been told, and the Hero will exist,” Narcolia affirmed.

Rosayan let off a small sinister laugh. “Don’t be so sure that you’ve won just yet.” He then disappeared in a cloud of mist, and all that remained were discarded sirens. The one that Rosayan had emptied in his arm had the word “Teleportation” written on it in black ink.

Rosayan reappeared in another country, with his two loyal slaves having waited for him as ordered, in the parking lot of a very unpopular restaurant. One of them was holding some sort of handheld computer device. “Servants! Change the route of the ship!”

“But master, there are seven minutes left. It’s nearly impossible for the ship to change course without getting caught in the explosion.

“Let us hope for a miracle.”

“Where to, master?”

“Planet Earth… or so I overheard.”

“As you wish.”

He pointed to the other slave. “Get me as much information about Earth as possible.”

The slave pulled out his tablet and started typing. “Right away, master.”

Six minutes passed. A minute remained, and the other slave, unable to contain his curiosity, dared to question his master right before they were all going to die. “Why, master? Why Earth?”

“It’s the last stepping stone before the old prophecy will come true. With this, in a far future, the universe will be named after Lizaross.”

“Then we’ll all be saved, right, Master? We’ll all come back to life to live forever?”

“Just you wait” Rosayan said.

“Just you wait.” Narcolia said, on Nemus, staring at the night sky for the last time. A new star rose upon space, dashing through the sky.

One short minute had passed, and from far away, the explosion had been seen from many planets. Neighbouring galaxies suffered from terrible loss and damage. Further planets were shaking terribly, and some skies turned orange. Some planets’ inhabitants even thought they could see fireworks up in the sky. The Daï-Taï galaxy was now a deep void of black emptiness.

A couple of light-years away, on a planet named Earth, a woman magically became pregnant. No matter how intense, sex couldn’t have endowed such a belly overnight. It surely had been a strange night, though. Earthquakes, the orange sky, and instant pregnancy? Sure looked like a weird prophecy was going on.