Battle Of Planets
Chapter 51: Aftermath

Chapter 51: Aftermath

The next day, the city of Elria stood still in ghostly silence.

For the first time in decades, no fights broke out on the streets, no alarms rang out, and no metallic footsteps echoed through the alleys. Holographic banners displayed the late president’s image draped over towering buildings, flickering solemnly. Giant digital billboards streamed his speeches, his victories, and his dreams for Elria, while soft orchestral music filled the city’s speakers.

A sea of people gathered in central Times Square, dressed in muted colors, heads bowed as a towering hologram of the president loomed above them. His final recorded message, one of hope and unity, played for the nation. From the wealthiest elites in sky-high towers to the working class in the underground sectors, all stood in silent tribute. Across the city, people watched from their homes, workplaces, and streets, their eyes glued to live broadcasts. Footage of the previous day’s destruction replayed in an endless loop, showing collapsed buildings, fire-lit skies, and the cost of the battle that had ravaged Elria.

"I still can’t believe he’s gone," a woman whispered as she watched the hologram. "He was supposed to lead us through this."

"He fought until the end," an elderly man next to her murmured. "But what now? Who will take his place?"

Seraphina stood at the forefront of the ceremony, barely holding herself together. Her father was gone. The man who had shaped this city and commanded respect was now just a memory flickering across the towering holograms. A void stretched where he once stood, vast and impossible to fill.

Her fists clenched at her sides, nails digging into her palms, waging a quiet battle against the grief that clawed at her throat. Tears threatened to spill, but she swallowed them back. She couldn’t break—not here, not now. The city was watching. Her father’s enemies were watching.

Standing beside her, her mother seemed carved from stone. Once regal and full of life, her face was now pale and inscrutable. She neither cried nor wavered. Yet the weight of her grief was evident in her posture—too still, too silent. The onlookers glanced at her with sympathy, murmuring their condolences, but none could comprehend what it meant to lose a lifelong companion, a partner in power and struggle.

Alex hesitated, his face still bruised from battle and his body aching from wounds that had yet to heal fully. Yet, his concern wasn’t for himself—it was for Seraphina. He took a quiet step closer, his voice low for her.

"You’re not alone," he whispered. "Not now, not ever."

For a moment, her fingers twitched as if they wanted to reach out for him, but she didn’t. Instead, she gave the slightest nod, silently acknowledging his words.

A few steps behind, Tyson stood rigidly. A white bandage was adhered to his forehead, and his lip bore a cut from the fight. However, the physical injuries paled in comparison to the grief he felt inside. His gaze lingered on Seraphina and her mother, clouded with self-reproach.

If only he had been stronger. If only he had been faster.

His master had entrusted him with their protection, and he had failed. Now, they stood here, mourning the loss of a leader, a father, a husband—a loss that could have been prevented. The weight of that failure settled deep in his bones. He had faced death and fought against forces stronger than himself, but nothing had prepared him for this sense of helplessness and bitter regret.

Nancy understood what he was experiencing, but she remained silent, aware that if she spoke too soon, he might misinterpret her, as he often does. He needed to find himself before she could help him escape his thoughts.

At the forefront of the ceremony, Edward stood silently, his expression unreadable. He was the only person mourning his two friends, Coco and Edmund.

Grief hung heavily in the air across the city. Screens in every district broadcast the ceremony, while social media overflowed with messages—some mourning, some demanding vengeance, and others questioning the true cost of war.

In the lower districts, people gathered in small clusters, lighting digital candles in remembrance. In the Sky Towers, where the elite observed from their glass-walled offices, the mourning had already begun to transform into something else—calculation.

"I heard the opposition party is involved in this," a man muttered while scrolling through a newsfeed filled with conspiracy theories and political debates. "Looks like they won’t clear their name before the elections are over."

"Yes, as far as I know, Edward," an elderly businessman replied, gazing down at the streets from his opulent penthouse. "The elections will take place sooner than anticipated."

"So backing Seraphina was the right move?" his grandson asked,

Richard paused momentarily, observing the flickering holograms of the late president. Then, with a slow nod, he said, "I’ve never bet on a losing horse."

The old man turned his gaze toward the city below. The cracks in the streets and the smoldering ruins reminded him of yesterday’s chaos. Elria stood together in grief, yet beneath the mourning, whispers had already begun—whispers of blame, power, and what was to come next.

The ceremony had ended, but its weight lingered. The streets of Elria were quieter now, yet the silence felt unnatural—heavy with unspoken words and hidden emotions. The holograms had dimmed, and the crowds had begun to disperse, but grief still clung to the air like an unshakeable fog.

Tyson exhaled slowly, rubbing his hand over the bandage on his forehead. His body ached, but the bruises weren’t the issue. It was the feeling biting at him from within—the sense that he should have done more.

Nancy tucked her hands into the sleeves of her coat as she glanced at him, her eyes soft yet knowing. "You’re still blaming yourself,"

Tyson scoffed quietly. "It’s hard not to... I had one job: protect them. And I failed."

Nancy sighed and stepped in front of him to block his way. "You didn’t fail, Tyson."

He met her gaze with skepticism. "Didn’t I?"

Nancy frowned but didn’t argue. Instead, she reached for his hand, her fingers brushing against his knuckles before gently gripping them. "Do you think Seraphina or her mother blames you?"

Tyson didn’t answer. He didn’t know.

Nancy tilted toward a distant corner of the plaza, where Alex stood with Seraphina. They were talking in low voices. From there, Tyson could tell that Alex offered his support however he could, even when he wasn’t good at it.

"They have each other at this moment," Nancy said. "And you? You’re here, tearing yourself apart over something you can’t control."

Tyson’s jaw tightened. "That’s the problem," he admitted. "I should be able to control it. If I were stronger—"

"Stop." Nancy tightened her grip on his hand, making him focus on her. "You’re not a god, Tyson. You can’t rewrite the past."

He studied her for a long moment. There was no pity in her eyes, only unwavering honesty. It was infuriating, and maybe just what he needed at that moment. She always knows how to soothe him.

"Come on," Nancy said, pulling on his arm. "Let’s go for a walk."

Tyson smiled slowly, "Yeah... alright."

"You can’t imagine how worried I was about you."

Tyson smirked. "Were you?"

Nancy sneered, yet the concern in her eyes remained. "How reckless can you be? You went into battle without armor!" She lightly punched his shoulder. "Do you have a death wish? Come here, let me help with that—"

"Hey, hey—time out!" Tyson chuckled, dodging her next playful strike. "I’m already hurt; have some mercy!"

A slight smile played on Nancy’s lips, yet the worry lingered.

Blue sat in his cell—a space that felt more like a teenager’s dorm than a prison. A small screen on the wall streamed the ceremony, and he watched in silence. He had done this. Every action and choice he had made for Coco had led to this moment.

He clenched his fists and exhaled sharply. The only relief was that the Rangers had shown mercy to the remaining Rogues, especially Edward. If they hadn’t, things would have spiraled into something far worse, and that was the last thing he wanted.

A sudden knock at the door made him tense.

"Someone is here to see you," a guard announced.

Blue hesitated. Who would come to visit me? Raine was still in the hospital, likely getting fitted for a new prosthetic leg or something. Tyson? No—he’d be at the ceremony, dealing with his own grief.

He frowned as he stood up and walked toward the visitor area. The moment he stepped inside, he froze.

Emily.

She stood abruptly from the table at the sight of him. She hesitated as she searched for the right words... "h-Hey."

"How did you get in here?" he asked, disbelief clear in his voice.

Emily paused for a moment and offered a small smile. "I exchanged my autograph."

For the first time in what felt like forever, Blue almost laughed...

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