In the silent void between dying stars, the Dystopia drifted like a wounded dream.
Its commander, Kael, stood before the viewport, watching the mist of nebulae shimmer in violet light.
For years, his only mission had been one: find Princess Tsukihara.
She had vanished during the fall of the Celestial Empire — taken, perhaps, by the void itself.
Now, Kael commanded an armada of a thousand ships, each carrying fragments of hope.
They spread through the galaxy like fireflies in eternal night, scanning every signal, every world, every whisper of light.
Sometimes he thought he heard her voice through the static — a soft echo calling his name.
“Tsukihara,” he whispered, hand pressed to the cold glass.
“If the stars still remember us… I will find you.”
Outside, the fleet ignited its engines.
And across the galaxy, the search began again.
