It was bitterly cold on the continent of Venus after the surprise attack. Black smoke swirled around the shattered ruins, and the once clear blue sky had turned a dark shade of ash. In the distance, the sounds of explosions echoed among the mountains, heralding the war that had just begun.
Franco, who had lost his parents in mere moments, stood in the ruins of the life he had known. He breathed heavily as he stood on the shattered remains of the buildings that had once been part of their neighborhood. The sky was filled with dark clouds, as if reflecting his own gloom and sadness.
Franco (whispers to himself, in a low voice):
"How did this happen? How...? Why?"
His hand trembled as he ran it over the shattered remains of his family photos that adorned the walls. A photo he kept in his pocket was only a distant memory of the new reality he now lived in. His life was now a deep emptiness. Everything around him was filled with destruction; from shattered houses to overturned cars on the side of the road.
Although he was gripped by feelings of shock, his mind was working quickly, trying to find a single answer to the question that kept repeating itself: Who were these attackers? And why?
The days passed heavily after the devastating attack on the continent of Venusa. The once vibrant city was now in ruins, its shattered streets echoing with the pain of the wreckage. The only survivors were a few, hiding in various locations, facing their fate with every passing moment.
Franco, who had lost his family, now lived in the ruins of his lost world. He spent his days searching for any trace of his family and trying to understand what had happened. He even pursued hope in his surroundings, but he was certain of one thing: he could not remain in this situation. He gasped amidst the wreckage, searching for meaning in this devastation.
One day, while scouring the ruins in search of food or anything that could help him, he heard faint whispers coming from behind one of the wrecks. He approached cautiously, sneaking behind the collapsed walls, to find a group of people hiding among the shattered corners.
Franco (in a low voice, watching them from a distance):
"Who are these? Are they enemies or friends?"
But the answer wasn't clear. There was a man standing in front, wearing a long black coat, his dark hair flowing beneath the hat he was wearing. He was watching the horizon with a calm gaze, as if planning something far-reaching.
Marco (in a low voice, turning suddenly to Franco):
"No need to hide, we know you're there."
Franco (surprised, emerging from behind the wreckage):
"Who... who are you?"
Marco (looking at him intently, then smiling slightly):
"You're alive, then. I didn't expect anyone to survive that chaos."
Franco (nervously, trying to understand):
"What's going on here? Who are you?"
Marco (with a mysterious smile, then looks at the rest of the group):
"We're a group of survivors. We're fighting the rebel robots and planning to bring down the Zacrota organization. And you, it seems you'll be part of it."
Franco (surprised, looking around):
"The robots? Zacrota? You mean you're fighting this nightmare?"
Marco (with a stern look, approaching Franco):
"Yes. And every moment of delay costs us dearly. If you want to survive, you have to learn to fight. And we're here to help."
The word "fight" was a bolt from the blue for Franco. This young man who had lost everything wasn't ready to fight. But even so, he knew he had no choice. He was forced to live in this new world, where there was no place for the weak.
First Training
The days passed quickly, and Franco, along with Marco and his comrades, trained on the use of weapons and combat maneuvers. The training was grueling, and his muscles ached every time he tried to lift a heavy weapon or run at high speeds. But he knew it was the only way to survive.
Marco (pointing at a target in front of him, then turning to Franco):
"You have to be fast, Franco. Robots have no mercy. If you're not fast enough, you'll lose your life."
Franco (trying to assume a fighting stance, panting):
"But... I've never been good at this kind of thing."
Marco (in a firm voice, watching closely):
"Fighting isn't just about strength, it's about intelligence. Learning to think through your next moves before your opponent makes a move. That's what separates life and death."
Franco was listening, though words didn't help his sense of powerlessness. But he wasn't in a position to give up.
Nabul's Strategy for Confronting the Robots
One night, as they huddled around the small fire in their hideout, Marco spoke of "Nabul," the rebel robot leading the attack on Venosa.
Marco (in a calm voice, looking into the fire):
"Nabul isn't just any robot. It's one of the most intelligent machines designed in the 23rd century. And it was built by the Zakrota organization itself."
Franco (surprised, raising his eyebrows):
"Zakrota? Did they create the robots? Are they behind all this destruction?"
Marco (cautiously, watching the fire):
"Yes. And they may think they control everyone, but that's not true. Nabul rebelled against Zakrota, and his goal is to destroy them. But he won't stop there. He wants to take control of Venosa, and he won't hesitate to destroy anyone who stands in his way."
Franco (his gaze shifts, filled with anger and determination):
"If Napoleon plans to take over Venosa, I won't let him. I will fight."
Marco (smiles understandingly, then looks at the rest of the group):
"You are now part of this struggle. There is no going back."