VOLUME 1
The Rise Of The Lengkawi
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In the long-distance planet called Nexara, a sprawling metropolis stretches across the landscape. Towering skyscrapers pierce the sky, their surfaces shimmering with neon lights and advanced holographic displays. Massive structures of steel and glass dominate the skyline, connected by intricate networks of skybridges and maglev tracks. The city's architecture is a blend of gothic and futuristic designs, with gargoyles and ornate carvings adorning the exteriors of the towering buildings. Flying vehicles zip through the air, weaving between the skyscrapers, while on the ground, bustling markets and crowded streets teem with life and activity.
Amidst this grand cityscape dwell the Lengkawi, a race of iron and rock-like beings. The Lengkawi are a formidable sight to behold, their bodies a fusion of metal and stone, giving them a rugged, ancient appearance. Each Lengkawi stands over eight feet tall, with glowing eyes set deep within their rocky faces. Their limbs are composed of interlocking metallic plates and rocky outcroppings, granting them immense strength and durability. Despite their intimidating appearance, the Lengkawi are known for their wisdom and resilience.
The Lengkawi's society is deeply rooted in tradition and honor, with each member of their race carrying a unique sigil etched into their chest, symbolizing their lineage and status. They are skilled artisans and engineers, capable of creating intricate machinery and powerful weapons. Their cities are marvels of engineering, with colossal stone fortresses and underground caverns illuminated by bioluminescent crystals.
The Lengkawi's connection to the planet Nexara runs deep, with many believing that they were born from the very essence of the world itself. Their ancient rituals and ceremonies often involve communing with the planet's core, seeking guidance and strength from its energies. The Lengkawi are not just beings of iron and rock; they are the living embodiment of Nexara's spirit, protectors of its secrets and guardians of its future.
Within one of the grand buildings of Nexara, a structure that resembles an awe-inspiring cathedral, lies the Sanctum of the Lengkawi. This sanctum serves as both a place of worship and a center of governance, invention, and protection. The towering edifice, adorned with intricate carvings and illuminated by ethereal light, stands as a testament to the Lengkawi's reverence for their heritage and their commitment to their world.
Inside this monumental structure, the air is filled with a sense of profound reverence and solemnity. The central hall is vast, with high ceilings supported by ornate columns, each engraved with ancient symbols and runes. Stained glass windows depict scenes of creation and invention, casting colorful patterns on the polished stone floor.
Presiding over this sacred place are the Elders of the Sanctum, a council of venerable Lengkawi who stand between 28 to 36 feet tall. These towering figures are clad in long, flowing cloaks of deep purple, their hoods concealing their ancient, weathered faces. The cloaks themselves are woven from rare, luminescent fibers, giving them an otherworldly glow.
The Elders are the keepers of knowledge, creators of wondrous inventions, and the ultimate protectors of their people. Each Elder has spent centuries honing their craft, mastering both the arcane and technological arts. They are revered not only for their immense wisdom but also for their ability to channel the energies of Nexara into their creations, imbuing their inventions with extraordinary power.
As members of the Council of the Sanctum, the Elders oversee all matters of governance and invention. They guide the Lengkawi in their endeavors, ensuring that their creations serve the greater good and adhere to the ancient traditions of their race. The Elders also serve as the protectors of the Sanctum, standing as an impenetrable barrier against any threats to their sacred home.
In addition to their roles as creators and protectors, the Elders are also spiritual leaders, conducting rituals and ceremonies that connect the Lengkawi to the essence of Nexara. Through these sacred rites, they seek to maintain harmony between their people and their planet, drawing upon the ancient energies that flow through the very core of their world.
The Elders of the Sanctum are the embodiment of the Lengkawi's values and aspirations. Their presence within the cathedral-like sanctum is a constant reminder of the enduring legacy of their race, and their unwavering commitment to the preservation and advancement of their civilization.
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In the central building of Nexara, the heart of the sprawling metropolis, an Elder of the Sanctum stood amidst a chamber filled with intricate machinery and glowing holographic interfaces. The chamber, with its high vaulted ceilings and walls lined with ancient runes, was both a testament to the Lengkawi's advanced technology and their deep-rooted traditions.
towering at thirty feet, wore the distinguished purple cloak of the Elders. His hands, made of interlocking metallic plates, moved deftly over a large, ornate keyboard embedded into a massive console. His task was to monitor the planet's core, a responsibility that required both his technological prowess and his spiritual connection to Nexara.
As he typed, Elder Sanctum's focus was interrupted by a sudden, blaring alarm. His glowing eyes widened as a crimson warning flashed across the main screen: "NEXARA'S CORE FAILING." The words pulsed ominously, casting a red hue across the chamber.
Before Elder Sanctum could react further, the ground beneath him began to tremble. The vibrations grew stronger, escalating into a full-blown earthquake. Ancient machinery rattled, and dust cascaded from the vaulted ceilings. Elder Sanctum's mind raced, understanding the gravity of the situation. The core was the lifeblood of Nexara, and its failure could spell disaster for the entire planet.
Quickly, he activated the communication array, sending out an urgent call to the other Elders and key leaders of the Lengkawi. His deep, resonant voice echoed through the chamber, filled with urgency and command.
"Attention, all members of the Sanctum. We have a critical situation. The core of Nexara is failing. I repeat, the core is failing. Prepare for emergency protocols and assemble immediately."
As the earthquake continued to shake the central building, Elder Sanctum remained at his post, fingers flying over the keyboard as he attempted to stabilize the core remotely. He knew that time was of the essence and that the fate of their world now hung in the balance.
In the vast cityscape of Nexara, the high-magnitude earthquake rippled through the streets with relentless force. Lengkawi citizens, typically known for their steadfast composure, found themselves thrown into a state of panic as the ground beneath them began to convulse violently.
Massive fissures opened up in the city's intricate pathways, swallowing entire sections of the bustling metropolis. The once sturdy, rock and iron beings struggled to maintain their balance as the tremors grew more intense. Cracks zigzagged across the ground, splitting open with thunderous roars.
Lengkawi fell into the gaping chasms, their cries echoing in the chaos. Some attempted to use their powerful limbs to climb out, while others were unable to escape the rapidly widening crevices. The ground, now unstable, shifted unpredictably, making rescue efforts perilous.
To add to the horror, the fissures began to spew forth molten lava. The intense heat and bright, fiery glow illuminated the terrified faces of the Lengkawi. Streams of lava erupted violently, creating a hellish landscape of fire and smoke. Buildings, once towering symbols of their ingenuity, began to crumble and fall, consumed by the relentless flow of molten rock.
The Lengkawi, known for their strength and resilience, found themselves facing a catastrophe beyond any they had ever experienced. As the lava spread, it incinerated everything in its path, turning the beautiful city into a nightmarish scene of destruction.
In the midst of the chaos, leaders and guardians among the Lengkawi tried to organize evacuation efforts, guiding as many of their people to safety as possible. But the situation grew direr by the moment, and the scale of the disaster seemed insurmountable.
As the ground continued to erupt and the city descended further into chaos, the Elders knew that only a miracle could save them now.
As the catastrophe unfolded, the Lengkawi and the Elders swiftly moved to evacuate the city. Each building was equipped with massive triangular-shaped spaceships, 2406 meters in size, designed for emergencies just like this. The metallic hulls of the ships glimmered in the fiery light as the Lengkawi rushed aboard.
The evacuation was a scene of both urgency and despair. The ships, massive and imposing, began to power up, their engines roaring to life. One by one, they lifted off, ascending from the crumbling cityscape in a desperate bid for survival.
However, not all were fortunate. As one ship began to rise, a violent burst of lava erupted beneath it, the molten rock melting through its hull. The ship exploded in a blinding flash, debris scattering into the sky.
Another vessel, heavy with evacuees, struggled to gain altitude. As it neared the top of a tall skyscraper, the building, weakened by the earthquakes, toppled over. The ship was crushed beneath the collapsing structure, its remnants buried in the rubble.
Despite the chaos and destruction, the remaining ships continued their ascent, breaking through the smoke-filled sky. The Lengkawi inside watched their beloved city disappear below them, now a landscape of fire and ruin. Their hearts were heavy with the loss, but their hope lay in the stars, as they fled their dying planet in search of a new beginning.
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The Lengkawi hundreds of ships ascended from the chaos, breaking through the atmosphere and into the cold void of space. As they looked back, they watched in horror as their home planet, Nexara, convulsed and shattered. The ground split open, releasing fiery tendrils of lava, and within moments, the entire planet was consumed in a massive explosion.
The shockwave from the explosion rippled through space, a devastating force that sent the Lengkawi ships tumbling. The massive triangular ships lost their balance, their navigational systems overwhelmed by the sudden, violent energy.
Large chunks of rock, debris from the shattered planet, hurtled towards the fleeing ships. One by one, the ships were obliterated. A ship that had just regained stability was struck by a colossal rock, breaking apart into a shower of twisted metal. Another vessel collided with a neighboring ship, both disintegrating in a fiery blast. The space around them became a deadly obstacle course of wreckage and flaming debris.
In the midst of this destruction, only one ship managed to evade the chaos. Its captain, with a mix of desperation and skill, engaged the hyperdrive just as a massive chunk of the planet hurtled toward them. The ship accelerated to faster-than-light speed, narrowly escaping the onslaught of rocks and the blast of flames that followed.
As the lone ship sped through the stars, the Lengkawi aboard watched the remnants of their civilization disappear into the darkness of space. Their planet was gone, and their people nearly wiped out. Yet, in the vast emptiness, they carried with them the hope of survival and the determination to rebuild. The journey ahead was uncertain, but they were resolved to find a new home and preserve the legacy of the Lengkawi.
Inside the speeding spaceship, one of the Elders of the Sanctum, the one piloting the vessel, felt a grim resignation settle over him. The catastrophic loss of their planet and people weighed heavily on his mind. Just as he thought they might be safe, a sudden explosion rocked the ship. Alarms blared, and the main screen flashed with a warning. The rocket engines were overheating, and the damage was spreading fast.
With quick, precise movements, the Elder's tentacles flew over the keyboard, searching for the nearest habitable planet where they could make emergency repairs. A result popped up almost immediately, but there was no time to evaluate the details. He pressed the confirmation button without hesitation, prioritizing immediate survival over careful planning.
The ship hurtled towards the unknown planet, breaking out of hyperspace and entering the atmosphere at an alarming speed. The hull groaned under the pressure, the damaged engines struggling to maintain control. The view on the main screen showed a rugged landscape of towering mountains and rolling hills, rapidly approaching.
The ship plummeted through the sky, colliding with the mountainside. The impact was violent, the force of it tearing through the structure of the vessel. The ship skidded across the rocky terrain, carving a deep trench through the landscape. It bounced and crashed, each collision with the ground sending shockwaves through the ship's interior.
Finally, the ship came to a grinding halt, embedded deep within the side of a mountain. The ground shook, and the already unstable mountain began to collapse. Massive boulders and tons of earth tumbled down, burying the ship under an avalanche of rock and dirt. The noise of the cascading debris was deafening, drowning out the ship's alarms.
The ship was now a tomb of twisted metal, crushed under the weight of the mountain. The air was thick with dust, and the screens flickered erratically. But amid the chaos, a sliver of hope remained. The ship, though damaged and buried, had managed to land. Now, their immediate challenge was to survive and find a way to repair the vessel in this harsh and unforgiving new world.
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100,000 YEAR LATER
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A hundred thousand years had passed since the Lengkawi's catastrophic fall, and the world had changed in ways unimaginable.
In the midst of this turbulent sky, a small airboat cut through the clouds, its wooden hull creaking as it sailed through the air. The boat was modest, designed for a lone traveler, with a single mast and tattered sails that caught the gusts of wind. The engines hummed softly, powered by magic Mana mechanisms that they been used by most of the world.
As small airboat soared through the sky, cutting through the thick, dark clouds that loomed overhead. Onboard stood a young girl with light blue hair that fluttered in the wind, her expression a mix of determination and sorrow. Her name was Lyra.
As she piloted the airboat, Lyra muttered to herself, her thoughts filled with memories of her beloved elder sister. "They said she was a necromancer... that she used dark magic," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "I don't care... I won't stop until I find her. No matter how far I have to go or how long it takes, I have to bring her back."
Lyra had always admired her sister, who had been more of a mentor and protector to her than anyone else. When their kingdom discovered her sister's abilities and branded her a criminal, Lyra was devastated. Unable to accept the harsh judgment, she fled the kingdom, determined to find her sister, no matter how far she had to go.
As Lyra navigated the airboat, she noticed the clouds growing darker and more ominous. The sky, once a dull gray, was now almost black, swirling with the promise of a fierce storm. The air became heavy, and distant rumbles of thunder echoed through the atmosphere.
"This doesn't look good," Lyra said to herself, glancing at the controls. She knew she had to act quickly to avoid being caught in the impending storm. Adjusting the airboat's altitude, she began to search for a place to land, scanning the landscape below for any sign of shelter. The wind picked up, and the airboat rocked precariously as the storm closed in around her.
With her heart pounding, Lyra steeled herself for the challenge ahead. She had come too far to be stopped by a storm, and nothing would deter her from finding her sister. The journey was dangerous, but Lyra was determined to face whatever came her way.
Moments later, the storm fully unleashed its fury upon Lyra and her small airboat. Strong winds whipped around her, howling like a wild beast, while sheets of heavy rain lashed down from the darkened sky. The once distant rumbles of thunder were now deafening, rolling across the heavens like the roar of some ancient, unseen force.
Lyra gripped the controls tightly, her knuckles white as she fought to keep the airboat steady. But the wind had other plans, pulling the vessel upward against her will, making it nearly impossible to descend.
"Did the universe really love me this much to mess with me?" she muttered through gritted teeth, her frustration mounting as the airboat continued to sway dangerously in the turbulent air.
Just as she was trying to regain control, a brilliant flash of lightning streaked across the sky, followed almost instantly by a thunderous crack. The lightning struck the airboat's mainmast with deadly precision, snapping it clean in two. The wooden mast splintered and broke, the top half catching fire as it plummeted downward, sending sparks flying into the stormy night.
Lyra watched in a mix of disbelief and resignation as the flames licked at the remains of the mast. "Yup, they really love me," she said dryly, her voice barely audible over the roaring storm.
With the mainmast destroyed, the airboat lost all semblance of control. It careened wildly through the storm, spiraling downward toward the thick forest below. Lyra clung to the railing, but the chaotic descent was too much. The airboat smashed through the treetops, branches and leaves tearing at the hull as it plummeted toward the ground.
The impact was brutal. The airboat crashed into the forest floor, splintering apart as it skidded across the dirt. The force of the crash sent Lyra flying from the wreckage, her body tumbling through the air before she slammed into the ground, rolling to a painful stop.
Dazed and hurt, Lyra lay in the dirt, gasping for breath as the world around her spun. Pain radiated through her body, but she was alive. Groaning, she tried to push herself up, every muscle protesting the effort. The storm still raged above, but for a moment, all Lyra could do was lie there, catching her breath and trying to make sense of what had just happened.
Lyra, groaning with pain, struggled to push herself off the ground. Her body protested every movement, but she couldn't afford to stay down. She knew the storm wasn't going to let up anytime soon. Slowly, she forced herself to her feet, wincing as she clutched her injured right arm.
As she stood, she glanced back at her airboat, or rather, what was left of it. The once sturdy vessel was now a wreck, shattered pieces of wood and metal strewn across the forest floor. There was no salvaging it-her means of travel was gone.
The wind howled around her, and the rain poured down even harder, soaking her to the bone. She pulled her hood up over her light blue hair, shielding her face as best as she could from the relentless storm. With no other option, she began to walk, her steps unsteady and weak as she navigated through the dense forest.
Every step was a struggle as she fought against the wind and rain, each gust pushing her off balance. Her injured arm throbbed painfully, but she kept moving, determined to find shelter. The forest seemed endless, but eventually, she broke through the treeline and emerged onto a vast grassland.
Ahead, she saw the foothills of a mountain range, their peaks obscured by dark, swirling clouds. As her eyes scanned the landscape, she spotted a dark opening in the base of one of the mountains-a cave.
Summoning the last of her strength, Lyra trudged toward the cave, her boots sinking into the wet grass with each step. The rain pelted her, and the wind pushed her from side to side, but she kept going, driven by the need to escape the storm.
Finally, she reached the mouth of the cave. Exhausted and drenched, Lyra staggered inside, the howling wind muffled by the stone walls. She leaned against the cold rock, breathing heavily, her body trembling from pain and fatigue. But she had made it. She was safe, at least for now.
Collapsing to the ground, Lyra huddled against the cave wall, pulling her cloak tighter around her to ward off the chill. The storm continued to rage outside, but inside the cave, she found a moment of reprieve. She closed her eyes, trying to calm her racing heart, knowing that she needed to rest and recover if she was to continue her search for her sister.
As the storm raged on outside, Lyra's heart began to calm, though the pain in her body remained sharp and relentless. Desperate for some relief, she decided to use her healing magic, even though she had not yet mastered it. She knew it wouldn't be perfect, but she had no other choice.
Focusing her energy, she placed her left hand over her injured right arm and closed her eyes. A faint, soft light began to glow beneath her hand as she whispered the incantation, channeling the healing magic into her wounds. The light flickered, weak and unsteady, but it was enough to mend some of the damage. The pain in her arm lessened as the torn muscles and skin began to knit themselves back together. It wasn't perfect, but it was better. Her other injuries also began to heal, though they still throbbed with dull pain.
Once the magic faded, Lyra opened her eyes and took a deep breath. She felt a little stronger, though far from fully recovered. As she let her eyes adjust to the dim light inside the cave, something felt off. The space around her seemed... unnatural.
She slowly turned her gaze to the walls of the cave, her brows furrowing in confusion. Unlike the rough, uneven surfaces of natural caves she'd seen before, this one was perfectly round, with smooth, unblemished walls. It was almost as if the cave had been carved out with purpose and precision.
Curiosity piqued, Lyra pushed herself up and approached the wall, resting her hand against it. To her surprise, instead of cold stone, she felt something else-something smooth, hard, and unyielding. Metal. The entire cave was made of metal, concealed under a layer of dirt and rock.
"What is this place?" she murmured to herself, her tired mind struggling to grasp the implications. This wasn't a natural cave; it was something else entirely, something artificial.
She wanted to explore further, to discover what secrets this strange place held, but her body was still weak, her energy drained. The healing had helped, but she was far from being at full strength. Reluctantly, she knew she had to rest. She couldn't risk collapsing from exhaustion when she needed to be alert.
Lyra leaned back against the metal wall, letting her eyes close as the storm continued to howl outside. Tomorrow, she would investigate. For now, she needed to regain her strength. Whatever this place was, she would find out soon enough.
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