It was a time long before Tyson's birth, a time when the Earth stood on the brink of a new age—or perhaps its final one. A time that had faded into a myth for many, in the crumbling remnants of old cities that now lay buried beneath new, harsh realities. It was on that day, many years ago, that the voice came—a voice that thundered across the skies, declaring humanity's fate in the hands of its own warriors. The great calamity began with the cry of an ancient god and was sealed by the eruption of the hourglass. That day, the earth trembled as if it was alive, and the sand began to fall in the hourglass marking the beginning of humanity's struggle for survival.

The hourglass, a monstrous black structure that had risen from the ashes, stood to this day at the heart of their existence. Time once thought to be their ally, now counted down to their end in a quite digital form. Each grain of sand that slipped away alongside the numbers reminded Earth that they had only ten years left. If they did not fight—if they did not win the Battle of Planets—humanity would be consumed by the very world they had fought to save.

Stories of the day of reckoning were told in whispers, in fleeting conversations, but Tyson knew them well, though he had never lived through the event its weight pressed on him every day.

The earth was engulfed in an unrelenting cosmic storm, a breathtaking spectacle of thousands of stars descending from the sky. The sight was awe-inspiring, yet terrifying, as the once-vibrant world transformed into a desolate wasteland. The air crackled with electricity, accompanied by the rhythmic hum of the falling meteors. The metallic scent of the celestial debris filled the atmosphere, a potent reminder of the cataclysmic event. As the stars crashed to the ground, they bestowed newfound abilities upon the humans, enabling them to don metal armors and take control of their destiny.

Since then it had been a battle for survival, where warriors in gleaming metal armors, known as Rangers, fought not only for glory but for time itself.

The ruins of the former cities remained, now surrounded by towering concrete walls. Inside, new civilizations had taken root, their citizens aware of the ever-present danger—the battle was not over. Yet the history of the catastrophe was not forgotten. It lived on in the streets, in the very air they breathed. Every crack in the pavement was a testament to that fateful day.

Tyson, like many before him, had been born into this harsh new world, raised among the ruins of humanity's past. He had never known a peaceful Earth. All he knew were the endless battles, the training, and the constant reminder that time was running out. The Meta-bots, strange and powerful, had chosen him five years ago—chosen him to wear the armor that could turn the tide of battle. It had marked him as a protector, a warrior destined to join the battle that would determine whether Earth would survive.

The tournament was a reminder of that struggle. It wasn't a one-time event, but rather something that came around every so often—a chance for humanity to win the time they desperately needed to survive. Yet, every time, they had failed. They had made it only so far before dropping out in the early stages. The Battle of Planets had become a symbol of humanity's desperation—a fight that they couldn't seem to win, no matter how hard they tried. Each time they managed to earn just a few years, and each time they would lose their warriors. 

But for now, in this quiet morning light, Tyson was just another trainee, rushing to class with his friends. The battlefield seemed distant, almost unreal. Yet, in his chest, he could feel the weight of the hourglass ticking steadily toward its end.

"Morning, Tyson! a voice exclaimed, snapping him from his thoughts.

He raised his gaze, seeing his two friends—Emily, always quick with a witty remark, and Nancy, the new girl, exuded a quiet strength that radiated through her smile. Her uniform, meticulously tailored to fit her slender frame, highlighted her graceful movements. The sight of her in the light blue skirt and pristine white blouse created a sense of ethereal beauty. The sun's rays danced upon her long, flowing locks of black hair, resembling dark mahogany, and revealed strands of shimmering gold. Nancy's captivating presence made her the epitome of school beauty, drawing attention from all who beheld her.

"Late as usual?" Emily playfully remarked, her short brown hair bouncing as she adjusted her glasses.

"Hey, I'm here, aren't I?" Tyson grinned, catching up with them. "Besides, I've been good at running,"

Nancy smiled softly. "That's for sure,"

Tyson's heart fluttered just slightly, but he shoved the feeling aside. Nancy had this way about her—quiet, steady like she didn't need to shout to make her presence known. She didn't make a big deal out of things, didn't seek attention or praise, and yet, Tyson couldn't help but feel like she was the one who saw through him.

It was strange, the way his thoughts drifted to her more and more, but he didn't understand why. Every time she spoke, his mind would quiet, and for a moment, the weight of the world—the endless training, the pressure of the tournament, the looming end of time itself—would fade.

She always seemed so sure of herself. Tyson envied that. In contrast, he felt as though he was stumbling forward, lost in the storm of his uncertainties.

Nancy's smile persisted in his mind as they continued walking, and for the briefest moment, he wondered if maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to be the person she seemed to see when she looked at him.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden light over the school courtyard. Tyson proceeded with his friends, Emily and Nancy, the faint hum of conversation and distant laughter filling the air. The world seemed normal—quiet, peaceful, and untouched by the chaos of the battles that loomed over their heads.

Yet for Tyson, everything felt distant. His thoughts kept drifting to the Battle of Planets, the tournament It felt like a never-ending cycle of preparation, with no clear goal in sight.

"Hey, Tyson, you okay?" Emily's voice snapped him out of his trance. She shot him a concerned glance as she adjusted her glasses.

"Yeah, just thinking," he muttered, forcing a smile.

Nancy, the quiet girl who had been by his side through it all, gave him a soft smile. "You're always thinking, Maybe you need a break."

Tyson chuckled, but the sound was hollow, missing its usual warmth. "A break? Not when the clock's ticking down"

Emily raised an eyebrow, her playful tone falling away. "Seriously, Tyson, We have like three years to live and if you ask me, it's more than enough"

"Oh! So you saying we shouldn't do our job?" said Tyson, "wow, you're really carefree Emily"

"And you are always worrying about the end of the world" She replied, "why not focus on things we can control?"

"Like what?"

"You're grades" She laughed, as Nancy followed her lead. Tyson rolled his eyes.

As they walked past the school's old, faded walls, the hum of metals clashing began to rise. The noise sent a chill down Tyson's spine. Something felt off, the air tense.

The distant roar grew louder, followed by the unmistakable sound of metal clashing. Tyson's heart skipped a beat. His instinct kicked in, and he immediately scanned the surroundings, his senses sharp despite the lack of visible threats.

"What the hell?" Emily asked her voice tight with worry.

Before anyone could respond, the ground beneath their feet trembled, and the roar of explosions filled the air, rattling the windows of the nearby buildings.

"Get down!" Tyson shouted, instinctively pulling Emily and Nancy to the ground as debris flew overhead. His body tensed, a rush of adrenaline surging through him.

A massive shockwave, which felt like a bone-jarring pressure, rippled through the air, flinging dust and rubble high into the sky, the Red Ranger among them, tossed like a leaf in a storm. As Tyson slowly stood up and the other side a strange figure emerged blue-ish black armor piercing through the smoke. It was one of the rogue Rangers.

"Tyson," Emily whispered her voice barely audible over the ringing in her ears. "Is that—?"

Tyson's grip tightened around the Meta-bot clasped on his chest. He tapped three times on the middle of the triangular metallic shape and a faint metallic hum surrounded him as the thick armor wrapped his body, adapting to his every move.

The ranger, tall and imposing in his white armor, stood firm. Ebony black metal patches, like shadows, marked his forearms and lower legs.

"It's time," he muttered, through his helmet.

Emily and Nancy stepped back, their faces pale. Tyson's heart raced as he squared off against the rogue, but a part of him, deep down, felt the same unease he had felt ever since he'd been chosen five years ago. Was he ready for this? Were any of them?

"Who the heck is he?" Tyson's voice dropped, his hand instinctively going for girls, "Stay back,"

In an instant, Tyson got sent flying smashing into a line of cars, sending them toppling like dominoes in a shower of sparks and the sickening crunch of metal.

Dusting himself off, the white Ranger said "That was a good one," the jarring sounds of twisted metal still echoing in his ears. "I didn't see that coming"

Emily and Nancy were left speechless, at first they thought their friend who is Ranger would somewhat control the situation and defeat the enemy but he got sent flying by the blast of the enemy attack.

"I swear I would've dodged that" Tyson shouted looking at the girls, there goes his chance to be a hero.

The Rouge laughed looking at the girls, "Are we fighting or what?"

"Yes, we are," Tyson said, as he saw his comrade in red-black metallic armor running towards his opponent. He was the one who was fighting the rogue before Tyson.

"Step aside, he is my prey!" said his comrade,

"you are certainly annoying," Said Rogue blasting him off With a startled cry, the White ranger scrambled aside as his teammate hurtled towards him, a shower of burning debris erupting from the battered cars which the Red ranger crashed right through.

"Are you dead?" The white ranger asked,

"Shut up," A clang of metal on metal, a groan of stressed alloys, announced the Red Ranger's attempt to rise from the crushed cars; the air filled with the smell of gasoline and burnt metal. "I'm going to kill him myself,"

"We should get to a safe place" whispered Nancy, Emily nodded.

Tyson's heart hammered in his chest as his Meta-bot's energy coursed through him. His fingers tightened around the newly formed sword hilt.

Tyson dashed forward, his feet pounding against the cracked pavement, the sound echoing in the deserted street, his sword gleaming harshly under the evening sun. With a shout, he swung downward—but the rogue Ranger blocked the blow with his gun, their weapons locking. Sparks flew from the impact.

"You think you're stronger than me?" the rogue taunted, pushing Tyson back.

Tyson's eyes narrowed. The rogue was fast, strong, and relentless—but Tyson had one thing he didn't. His teammate, from the corner of his vision, saw Alex slashing his blade downward the impact made the rogue stagger but he quickly recovered. 

In a fluid motion, Rogue dodged the next Tyson strike, spun around, and blasted both off them yet again. "Ha! Losers!" Laughed the blue-ish Ranger from the opposite side, and then the metallic gun dissolved into nanoparticles echoing as it vanished back into his armor. "See you around"

"Don't let him leave" shouted Alex. 

"He's twenty-five power points." Tyson sank heavily onto the cracked road, his body worn and his mind clouded with exhaustion. It felt as though the very air around him was pressing down, suffocating him. We're just kids playing a game we can't win, he thought bitterly. What if we're not ready for this fight? What if we're chasing something we can never truly achieve?

"I don't care," the Red one muttered, his eyes burning with determination as he charged toward the rogue.

Tyson's gaze shifted to the law enforcement officers who stood nearby, casting him disappointed, even hostile, glances. Their faces were grim, the air thick with the tension they exuded.

"Sorry, you should've called for more backup," Tyson muttered under his breath.

"Told you they were just trainees," one of the officers said the disdain clear in his voice. "We needed professionals."

"Ouch," Tyson groaned, collapsing onto the road with a heavy thud.