Nekarata. Hardly a hundred leagues south of Civilization’s Jewel. One of the subdued territories. The massive air continent’s metalicized surface shone as a beacon of safety. Merchants from all of the Isles and the nations beyond would come to Nekarata, the ‘last lodging before the Jewel’. In the cities that dotted its surface, places like The Old Earth Café and Ericson’s Travel-Wear lined the streets. A far cry from the harsher Isles of Angerthan and Falca, Nekarata was the last place one would except war to begin.


Jaidan owned a post-office about fifty meters from the ledge of Nekarata, located right at the busiest intersection of the Air Docks.

Two seconds and the detonation of five oxybombs later, he no longer owned such a shop. He no longer owned his life. Half of the Air Docks were now replaced by molten metal and raging fires, charred bodies and burned out ship hulls. The remaining half was now being swarmed by a flood of soldiers from ships without ID markings. Element rifles shredded the streets that dared to survive the oxybombs. The Air Docks were not known for a strong military garrison. The closest to a defense was the Pilot’s Guild, blast doors now sealed shut.

Element rifle fire came from the windows of the Guild and held the soldiers off for a little while. But element rifles can do nothing against oxybombs. The Guild was leveled.

At the end of three hours, the soldiers had vanished in their ships, skimming the waves below Nekarata to hide their trails. Casualties totaled close to the number in the city, five hundred and fifty thousand, three hundred and two out of the six hundred and twenty-six thousand, two hundred and one that lived in the city.

Help would not reach them for a day. To add insult to injury, the unnamed soldiers had left behind an EMP bomb. All communications were wiped out after the raiders left, and the blood-soaked streets were left to coagulate on their own.

Nekarata was the last place one would expect war to begin.