Prologue: Welcome to Mira
The air crackled with energy as the boy, his striking blue hair vibrant against the dull landscape, ignited his weapon—a sleek photon saber that hummed with potential. His gaze was locked on a towering mech loomed before him, its metallic frame glinting ominously under the fading light. In the background, he saw one of his teammates crouched over a fallen comrade, tending to their wounds urgently. A mix of determination and betrayal surged through him as he turned his attention back to the mech, his heart racing with anger.
"I trusted you ever since I met you, just to realize you were a pawn for them?!" The boy's voice cut through the tension, filled with disbelief and hurt.
The mech's cold and mechanical voice reverberated through the air as it sneered, "Pawn Shmawn. You should've realized I was doing this in the first place. Once I get rid of you, I can reunite with the people I lost."
The words stung, the betrayal cutting deeper than any physical wound could. Each heartbeat echoed in his ears, the stakes higher than he had ever imagined.
With a sudden burst of adrenaline, the mech charged at him, a menacing shadow barreling forward. Fueled by a fierce resolve, the boy lunged back, bringing his photon saber alight and ready for the impending clash. The shimmering blade illuminated his determined expression, reflecting his inner turmoil.
You're probably wondering how things got to this point and why that boy is fighting some powerful mech. Well, it seems like he's been doing this his entire life. Am I going too fast? You know what, let's start over from the beginning. Rewind!
A few months earlier….
A beautiful dark-skinned woman with striking white hair surveyed the dimly lit landscape, her armor glinting red against the shadows. Raindrops cascaded from the foliage around her, but she paid it no mind as she focused on her search.
"If my calculations are correct, the stasis pod should have landed… here," she murmured, examining the ground where she suspected it might have touched.
As she scanned the surrounding area, something caught her eye—a metallic object half-buried in the mud.
"There it is!" she exclaimed, her voice cutting through the sound of the rain. She quickened her pace, adrenaline fueling her as she approached the pod.
She pressed a sequence of buttons on the vessel's control panel with deft fingers. The pod hissed and creaked as it began to open, revealing a hazy interior.
As the door swung open, a boy with striking blue hair and purple highlights emerged, squinting against the dim light. The first sight to greet him was the woman standing before him.
"Hey… it looks like you're all in one piece," she said, her voice laced with relief and a hint of playfulness.
He stepped forward but stumbled, the disorientation of awakening from stasis overwhelming him. The woman instinctively reached out, steadying him with a firm grip.
"Easy there. You just woke up from some kind of slumber," she reassured him.
Once he regained his balance, he glanced back at her, measuring their distance. She was just a few inches taller, and he could see the genuine concern in her eyes.
"You're one of the lucky few that survived what happened. I'm glad I could find you," she said, the intensity of her gaze unwavering. "My name is Elma. Wanna tell me your name?"
The boy furrowed his brow, searching his mind for an answer.
"Wait… What is my name?" he muttered, confusion clouding his features. "I… I don't know. I can't remember."
"Wait… you've forgotten who you are?" Elma asked, her voice softening with sympathy.
"Yeah… I remember something hitting me, and everything going dark, and then… nothing. I can't remember anything past that," he confessed, a hint of frustration creeping into his tone.
'It must be the hangover from the stasis,' Elma thought, her analytical mind racing to assess the situation.
"Don't worry. I can help you get your memory back. I just need you to trust me," she said, her voice steady and reassuring.
The boy nodded slowly, uncertainty still hanging in the air.
"Thank you, Miss Elma," he said, his voice shaky but sincere.
Elma chuckled softly, the sound light and inviting.
"Just call me Elma," she insisted, her smile brightening her already stunning features.
"Okay, Elma," the boy replied, the newfound familiarity easing their tension.
Elma then reached into her gear and retrieved a rifle and a knife, handing them to him with care.
"I hope you know how to use that," she said playfully, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips.
"I've never held one before," he admitted, glancing at the weapons worriedly.
"Don't worry; I'll teach you," she promised, her tone transforming into one of mentorship. "Right now, we need to get moving. There's danger all around us."
With the urgency of survival hanging in the air, the boy nodded, determination replacing uncertainty as he clutched the rifle tightly. He was about to embark on a journey that would uncover the mysteries of his past and forge a bond with the remarkable woman who had saved him.
Together, they stepped into the shadows of the night, the rain falling around them—a new beginning for the lost boy and the fierce warrior who had found him.
The faint glow of the setting sun cast elongated shadows across the rugged terrain as Elma and Cross wandered through the wilderness. The air, thick with the scent of earth and grass, felt vibrant with survival energy. As they walked, Elma filled him in on the extraordinary circumstances that had brought them here.
"Whoa… alien races invading Earth, and we all escaped on the white whale?" His eyes widened, a mixture of disbelief and awe on his face.
"That's right," Elma replied, her expression serious yet resolute. "We managed to flee while our home was crumbling around us. But not without a price—some of those aliens followed us, intent on our destruction. We landed on this planet, and I'm taking you to a base nearby."
Amid their conversation, a rustle in the underbrush made the boy pause. He turned, a frown creasing his brow.
"Uhhh—"
Suddenly, they both found themselves face-to-face with a monstrous creature resembling an enormous bug.
"It looks like we'll have to defend ourselves," Elma declared, her voice steady as she unsheathed a pair of twin guns from their holsters.
Nervously, the boy mirrored her movements, his fingers fumbling for the grip of an assault rifle. He squeezed the trigger, unleashing a torrent of bullets at the monstrous bug. It let out a furious screech, turning its wrath towards him. As the creature charged, he recalled a move he'd seen once, a fluid maneuver he instinctively executed—slicing through the air with precision, cleaving the beast in two. Elma watched recognition sparking in her eyes.
"The Cross Slash," she noted, a note of admiration in her voice.
"Cross Slash?" He blinked in surprise, confusion mingling with curiosity.
"That's how we refer to it in Blade Arts," she elaborated, her tone lighter. "Different classes use various techniques depending on the situation. You clearly have a knack for weapons."
"Thanks," he said, his cheeks flushing slightly, a shy smile breaking through. "If it helps, I'd be honored to contribute more to our little battle."
Elma returned his smile with one of her own. "Then you're interested. I might have just the task for you when we reach the city."
"Cool," Cross responded. "This cross-slash technique is gonna come in handy."
"If you believe so," Elma chuckled, "Once we get to the city, I think you'll learn many more useful skills, Cross."
The boy halted, taken aback.
"Cross?" he echoed, a smile forming at the corners of his lips.
"Well, I've got to call you something, don't I?" Elma shrugged playfully.
"I like it," Cross said, newfound enthusiasm flickering in his voice.
Cross's eyes fell upon a structure rising majestically in the distance as they continued their journey toward Elma's base.
"What's that giant bowl?" he asked, pointing excitedly.
"That's no bowl," Elma replied with amusement, "That's a city."
Before she could finish, a menacing growl pierced the air. Two dog-like creatures, their eyes gleaming with ferocity, stalked them with an intimidating presence.
"Grexes!" Elma shouted, fear etched in her features. "And they're fierce."
Quickly regaining his focus, Cross pulled out his knife, falling into a fighting stance. The Grexes charged at them, swift and dark shadows against the fading light. With a nimble sidestep, Cross narrowly avoided one beast, then thrust his knife at a weak spot, striking true. Elma quickly followed suit, firing at the wounded creature until it collapsed.
Suddenly, the remaining Grex lunged at Elma, and Cross sensed her danger.
"Look out!" he shouted, instinctively propelling himself forward. With a swift motion, he pushed her aside, then fired a Flame Grenade at the aggressive creature, its body collapsing into a heap of charred remnants.
Elma's gaze softened, her heart swelling with admiration at the bravery he had just demonstrated. "I can't believe we live in such a wild environment," she said, taking a breath to collect herself. "While some creatures aren't as hostile, it's a reminder that there's a thin line between self-defense and escalating a fight. All we can do is respect that line."
"Got it," Cross replied, his determination undeterred.
"Now, let's head inside," Elma urged, reaching for his hand with a comforting grip.
Cross took her hand, and she guided him inside. They were both looking at a city that was separated into what looked like four areas. People were walking around, and the streets were busy.
"Welcome to New Los Angeles," Elma said with a smile.