The Sunlit Squad thundered across the wasteland, a tempest of roaring engines and metallic fury.
Their motorcycles and heavily modified vehicles sliced through the desert's vast expanse, kicking up massive clouds of golden sand beneath the twin suns that burned relentlessly overhead.
The squad was a formidable sight—each member clad in weathered armor, their faces obscured by dust-caked scarves and tinted visors that shielded their identities. Weapons were strapped to their backs and belts, tools of destruction that they wielded with practiced ease. They were ready for war at a moment's notice, a pack of predators always on the hunt.
They had just finished raiding another Order outpost, their supplies replenished, and their spirits high with the thrill of rebellion.
The successful mission had brought them riches and satisfaction, but the desert was never still, never peaceful. It was a land where danger lurked around every corner, and nothing ever stayed quiet for long.
"Boss!" came a voice crackling over the comms, sharp and urgent. It was Varkos, the squad's most seasoned scout.
"Scanner's picking up something on the northeast ridge. Order vehicle. Slave carrier, by the look of it."
The leader of the Sunlit Squad, a towering woman with deep red skin and piercing dark green eyes, tightened her grip on the handlebars of her hoverbike. Her lips curled into a smirk, her gaze narrowing. "Still moving?"
"Barely," Varkos replied.
"Then we're paying them a visit," she declared, her voice low and dangerous.
The squad roared in approval, their engines growling in unison as they veered in a coordinated formation. A pack of wolves descending upon wounded prey. The wind whipped at their faces, but they paid it no mind. They were focused, trained for moments like this—swift, brutal, efficient.
Their movements were sharp and practiced, each rider knowing their role and executing it without hesitation.
But as they neared the coordinates, something was wrong. The slave carrier lay in ruin, its hull torn apart by massive, jagged claw marks. Blood stained the sand, mingling with the dust as if the very earth itself had been torn asunder. It was no longer the smoldering wreckage of a captured vehicle—it was a corpse.
"A Dune Dragon did this," one of the raiders muttered under his breath. His voice was tinged with a mixture of awe and dread. "Got to 'em first."
The squad let out a collective sigh. No spoils to reap from the dead.
Just another lost opportunity in the wastelands, a reminder of how quickly things could turn in this brutal world.
But then—a sound. A wail. A cry so faint, so fragile, it cut through the howling winds and the growling engines like a whisper in the void.
The leader turned sharply, her instincts on high alert. "That come from inside?" she asked, her voice low and dangerous, carrying a note of urgency.
They approached the wreckage cautiously, weapons drawn, their eyes scanning for any signs of movement. There, nestled amidst the devastation, they spotted it. A capsule—sleek and sterile—untouched in the middle of the carnage. It gleamed like a forgotten artifact, incongruous in the sea of destruction surrounding it. The lettering on its surface read: Adam-101.
For a moment, all was still.
"What in the void is that?" one of the raiders asked, disbelief hanging in their voice.
The leader knelt before the capsule, her fingers brushing over the smooth, unblemished surface. Her eyes flicked to a small scanner mounted on the side of the capsule. It required an authorized keycard to unlock.
Without hesitation, she reached into the pockets of a nearby corpse, pulling out a bloodied ID badge. She pressed it to the scanner.
With a soft hiss, the capsule unlocked.
Inside, wrapped in a temperature-regulated cocoon, was a baby. A human baby.
A stunned silence fell over the squad. A few held their breath, processing the sight before them.
"Stars above," one of the raiders whispered in disbelief. "A real one?"
The leader gently lifted the child from its cocoon, her expression unreadable as she inspected the baby. A thin data card was attached to the child's wrist. She scanned it, her sharp eyes narrowing as she processed the information.
"Not real," she muttered, her voice tinged with both curiosity and something darker. "Bio-engineered."
A low murmur passed through the squad. Humans were supposed to be extinct—mere myths of a forgotten era. And yet, here was one.
Alive. Cradled in the wreckage of an Order transport, like some twisted prize.
The leader chuckled, her sharp teeth flashing in the desert light as she glanced around at her squad. "Looks like we got ourselves a new recruit."
She decided to take the child in,she couldn't gain any profit from the child anyway. The Sunlit Squad didn't deal in children.
The child, whom they named Adam, grew among the outlaws, learning their ways and their lawless freedom. By the time he was one, he could walk, talk, and outthink most of the lesser raiders.
By two, he looked five. By five, he was already outpacing adults in strength and agility.
Adam wasn't just surviving the wasteland—he was thriving in it, growing into something more than human, something built for more than mere survival.
His mother, the red-skinned leader of the Sunlit Squad, watched him with a mix of pride and keen interest.
She had always known he was different, but with every passing day, he exceeded her expectations.
One night, as they sat beneath the twin moons of the desert, she turned to him. "Listen, Adam," she said, her voice soft yet heavy with meaning. "The world wasn't always like this. Once, this planet belonged to humans."
Adam frowned, the word unfamiliar, yet somehow resonating deep within him. "Humans?"
She nodded, her expression distant. "People who looked like you. But when the Galactic Order came, they stripped this world bare. They saw humans as pests—primitive, weak, unsightly. They wiped them out—mostly. But some saw value in them, so they cloned them. Built them. Made them into something they could control. Made them in their image,gave them powers."
He looked up at her, searching for answers in her eyes. "And I'm… one of them?"
She ruffled his hair affectionately, her grin sharp in the pale light. "You may be different, kid, but never let anyone tell you you're lesser."
His small fists clenched in determination. "Never."
As time passed, Adam defied every expectation. By the age of six, he could move objects with his mind, a power that was unheard of in the old human records. But not uncommon in the few bioengineered ones they had left.
Although he could not move anything above a few nails at first he has gotten to a point where he can even control his Energy Saber.
And then came the day of his Graduation.
The Sunlit Squad gathered in a circle, the air thick with anticipation and the scent of sweat and desert dust.
His mother smirked, arms crossed over her chest. "We don't know what human traditions were like," she admitted with a shrug. "But most records say they became adults at eighteen. So…" She gestured to the horizon, her voice low and serious. "It's time for your coming-of-age trial."
The raiders cheered, their voices booming through the night air.
Adam's heart pounded in his chest, a mixture of excitement and nerves bubbling within him.
He mounted his hoverbike,securing his energy saber magnetically to its side where their was a compartment to attach it to. The twin moons hovered over the dunes even in day.
He rode toward the designated battleground. Silence stretched around him, broken only by the soft shifting of sand in the wind. The earth beneath his tires hummed with potential. The suns glare reflecting of his eyes.
Then the earth shook.
A shadow loomed over him, growing larger with every passing second. The sand parted like water, revealing a massive, reptilian behemoth. Its bronze hide gleamed under the moons, its enormous jaws parted as if to devour him whole.
Species: Dune Dragon (Albakkhri Gravashan)
Planet of Origin: Mervalan
Bio: Apex predators of Mervalan, these beasts were once symbols of noble prestige, brought to Earth centuries ago. But they escaped captivity and bred uncontrollably, becoming the undisputed kings of the wastelands. Standing at 90 feet (27 meters) tall and weighing nearly 120 tons, their hides are impervious to conventional weaponry, and they move through the sands like water. Their power gave them the name Dune Dragons.
Adam smirked, his eyes narrowing as he unclipped his energy saber. With a flick, it hummed to life—a straight, long line-like blade of shimmering blue plasma that crackled in the air. It was made in the image of human swords just for Adam.The Dune Dragon's eyes locked on him like molten gold glowing in the darkness as it let out a deafening roar, shaking the very foundations of the desert.
Adam grinned, a fierce joy rising within him. "Alright, big guy." He revved his hoverbike's engine, leaning forward. "Let's dance."
The battle was about to begin.
End of Chapter-1