Battle Of Planets

Chapter 2: ELRIA
The Ranger Association’s rangers were often referred to as Trainees who were still in schools and learning the way of the world.They were far from ordinary. Unlike their civilian peers, they lived under a unique system. one that allowed them specific liberties, like choosing whether to attend academic classes or not as long as they committed to their rigorous training regimens.

After all, their primary focus wasn’t grades or essays—it was survival, strength, and readiness for the battles.

For the trainees, life was a paradox of freedom and destiny. Their futures were already written the moment they joined the Ranger Association: a lifelong commitment to serve, fight, and defend.

They didn’t need to worry about career choices or uncertain paths; their purpose had been etched into their very existence But that clarity came at a cost—endless drills, combat simulations, and the weight of knowing that their lives were tools for the survival of humanity.

Ordinary people, on the other hand, weren’t afforded such certainty. While trainees trained to become humanity’s shield, civilians scrambled to ensure their futures for them in a world on the edge of extinction.

They worked tirelessly, working to rise above the shadow of the impending fate. And though they envied the trainees’ futures, few would willingly trade their freedom for the unrelenting burden carried by the Rangers.

Tyson stood apart from the other trainees, a figure that carried both admiration and skepticism. He was special, though not in the way most would expect.

Tyson had the rare distinction of being the disciple of the strongest person in Elria—Edward Rogers, the head of the renowned Rogers family and a man whose name alone inspired awe.

Edward’s power, measured at a staggering 74 points on the scale established during the Great Battle, was unmatched. It was a benchmark that few could even dream of approaching, let alone surpassing.

But Tyson’s connection to the Rogers family was complicated. Edward had taken him under his wing, a gesture that spoke volumes about Tyson’s potential, yet the acceptance didn’t extend to the entire family.

Alex Rogers, Edward’s prodigious son, refused to acknowledge Tyson as his brother. Born into greatness, Alex was every bit his father’s heir.

A warrior of remarkable skill who is destined to dominate the battlefield. His talent, combined with an unrelenting drive, made him the yardstick by which others were measured.

For Tyson, this dynamic was both a blessing and a curse. Training alongside Alex was like chasing the wind—always just out of reach. While Alex flourished effortlessly, Tyson often struggled to keep up. His power point remained a distant echo of Alex’s brilliance.

This rivalry within the Rogers family cast a long shadow over Tyson’s life. He wasn’t just fighting to prove himself as a trainee; he was battling for his place in a legacy that seemed to have no room for him.

”He’s tired. Let him sleep—” Nancy tried to stop Emily, who was inching closer to shout in Tyson’s ear.

”Emily!”

But it was too late. Emily burst out laughing as Tyson jolted awake, nearly falling out of his chair.

”Ugh,” Tyson groaned, rubbing his eyes.

”What’s your problem?”

”Classes are done,” Emily said between giggles. ”Time to head for your ranger training or did you forget your life revolves around that?”

Tyson sighed heavily, stretching as his muscles protested from yesterday’s fight alongside his brother Alex—also known as the Red Ranger.

Nancy shot him a worried look. ”Are you okay? You look like you’ve been run over by a truck.”

”He’ll be fine!” Emily said with a playful grin. ”He’s practically used to it by now. Besides, he still owes me Alex’s autograph.”

Nancy rolled her eyes dramatically. ”You’re impossible.”

Tyson sighed, rubbing his forehead. ”Seriously? Can you just leave me out of the ’Alex fan club’ for once?”

”Never!” Emily giggled, nudging him playfully. ”I’m getting that autograph, one way or another.”

Nancy stifled a laugh, shaking her head.

As the trio walked out, the two girls bid their farewells and went their separate ways. He found himself navigating through the packed streets of Elria, a vibrant city pulsating with the energy of nearly five million people.

The towering concrete walls enveloped the city, their imposing presence akin to five-story buildings. As he walked along, the cacophony of sounds filled the air - the chatter of the pedestrians, the blaring horns of passing vehicles, and the distant murmur of city life. Every few meters along the walls, advanced electronic devices stood tall, their presence apparent through the faint scent of metal in the air.

These devices bristled with heavy guns and laser cannons, their formidable appearance serving as a constant reminder of the city’s unwavering commitment to defense.

Every city prioritized the safety of its citizens, and Elria was no exception. Underground bunkers were a crucial part of its defensive strategy, designed to withstand even the most destructive events. These shelters, constructed with walls thick enough to survive a nuclear attack, were equipped with supplies tailored to their capacity, ensuring long-term survival.

The city boasted a remarkable network of 711 bunkers, with more still under construction. Each one symbolized Elria’s commitment to willingness, providing a sense of security to its citizens in an unpredictable world.

Beyond the city walls lay vast expanses of newly developed farmland, utilizing cutting-edge agricultural technologies to maximize productivity. Elria’s prosperity was evident in every sector—agriculture, technology, and defense. Unlike many other cities who are struggling with water shortages, oil and gas supply issues, or gaps in critical infrastructure, Elria thrived as a beacon of progress and stability.

At the heart of the city stood the Ranger Association facility, an imposing pyramid-shaped structure that dwarfed everything around it. Its sleek design bragged the latest high-tech innovations: powerful defense mechanisms, robots patrolling its perimeters, holographic projections flickering with vital informations.

A handful of guards in man-made metal suits stood vigilant, their presence a living symbol of the city’s resolve.

Tyson walked through the bustling headquarters, the vicinity alive with activity. Recruits scurried past him, some chatting, others deep in thought, while robots roamed the area, offering food, drinks, and other gadgets to the passersby.

Ahead of him, at its base, a fountain sat — but not one of water. Instead, holographic projections danced across its surface, shifting between famous figures from across the world, before morphing into dynamic information boards that updated with the latest news and announcements.

Above, the sky buzzed with activity as newly advanced spacecraft took off and landed with ease. These ships, wonders of modern technology, could soar more than ten thousand meters into the air and reach speeds of up to five hundred miles per hour — a true testament to Eyria’s dominance in both defense and exploration.

Tyson took it all in for a moment, knowing that such technology and advancements were part of what made Elria the prosperous city it was. But, as he approached the entrance to the headquarters, his mind drifted back to the task ahead, a sluggish regular training session with Alex.

”Hey, champ!” one of the guards greeted, his tone casual. ”Looking tired? I heard you and Master Alex went up against Blue.”

”Yeah,” Tyson replied with a weary nod. ”We tried to stop him.”

The guard chuckled knowingly. ”Blue’s always been a pain in the backside, huh?” He glanced around as they walked into the building, ”Anyway, just a heads-up—the General’s here. Good luck, kid.”

Tyson froze mid-step. His master had returned from his tour. A wave of dread washed over him as he realized what this meant: the return of grueling, hellish training sessions.

While his master had been away visiting another city, Tyson and Alex had stuck to their routine, maintaining normal but not overly intense training. With no one to criticize or punish them like the ordinary rangers, they’d enjoyed a rare stretch of relative ease.

But now, things were about to change. His master was infamous for pushing his students beyond their limits, breaking them down only to rebuild them stronger. Tyson could already feel the weight of the upcoming sessions looming over him like a storm cloud.

”A rogue sighted in area 231. Nearby rangers, please proceed to the location and assist,” a clear voice announced over the headquarters’ intercom.

The message barely disrupted the bustling atmosphere as rangers nodded in acknowledgment, a few continuing their casual chatter, unfazed by the call.

Rogue Rangers— they are the ones who got chosen by the Meta-bots but refused to use that power for the good of humanity—operated outside the law, abusing their powers for personal gain.

They were the villains of society, committing heinous acts like robbery, murder, and kidnapping without remorse, as long as it served their twisted agendas.

Ordinary law enforcement were powerless against such threats. Their resources and training couldn’t match those of rogues leaving the responsibility to the Rangers Association. It was their duty to handle these renegades, to subdue them, and restore peace for the sake of the people.

Tyson glanced around, his mind racing. This was the perfect opportunity to slip away while pretending to deal with the rogue. At the very least, it would give him an excuse for missing training the next day. ”Duty calls,” he muttered, already turning on his heel to head outside.

But before he could take a step, he collided with a solid wall of authority—his dear master. Standing right behind him, his master’s knowing gaze bore into him like he’d been reading Tyson’s mind the whole time.

”Master?” Tyson squeaked, his voice betraying a mix of surprise and dread.

”Hello there, Tyson,” his master greeted, a sly smile tugging at his lips. ”And where do you think you’re heading? Don’t worry about those rogues. We’ve got more than enough personnel here to handle them.”

Before Tyson could protest or offer another excuse, his master clamped a firm hand on his shoulder and steered him toward the lift.

”Upstairs. Now,”

Tyson barely had time to groan internally before his master added, with an almost unsettling cheeriness, ”We’ve got a lot to catch up on since I’ve been away. I’ve missed training my two sons.”

Tyson’s stomach sank. Escape had never felt so out of reach.