The year was 2025, before the creation of the United Nations of Earth.
Aliens who called themselves the Udulak invaded, determined to claim Earth as their own. They were stronger, faster, and far more advanced — their technology felt like magic to us. Humanity's armies fell one after another; our cities were reduced to dust, and all that remained was despair.
But the Udulak made one fatal mistake — they gave humanity time.
They didn't destroy everyone. Instead, they made slaves of the survivors. And in that quiet submission, humanity learned. We studied their machines, their energy, their power. We adapted. We waited.
In 2135, humanity won its first victory against the Udulak. It was small, but it lit a spark — one the Udulak dismissed. They still saw us as primitives.
By 2617, our rebellion had long been crushed. The idea of resistance was gone. The Udulak no longer ruled through force, but through acceptance — they taught humans that slavery was normal. People forgot what freedom even felt like.
Until 2900, when a man named Mahel Laimer — a philanthropist turned martyr — was executed for speaking of liberty. His death wasn't silent. His last words became fire.
"Freedom isn't a dream — it's a debt owed by the living."
That cry reignited humanity's forgotten flame.
The wars that followed were long and merciless. Humanity fought with purpose, with fury, with heart. By 3400, we had reclaimed Earth.
By 3420, we launched campaigns across the stars.
By 3490, it was no longer a war — it was a purge.
And by 3499, the Udulak were extinct.
But even in victory, freedom remained uncertain.
Above the galaxies stood the Empire, rulers of the stars. They had watched the "childish conflict" from afar, dismissing it as a master-servant scuffle. Yet when humanity emerged victorious, they took notice.
The Empire gathered to pass judgment. If they denied humanity's independence, there would be nothing we could do — we had no strength left to resist.
Fortunately, the verdict was mercy.
Humanity was recognized as a free race, now part of the Empire's domain.
By the year 5021, humanity had not only survived but thrived. We were known across the stars as the fastest-rising race — powerful, brilliant, and ambitious enough to earn even the Emperor's attention.
"Ahh!"
Eghosa stretched, exhaling deeply as she stared at her holoscreen. "Finally done," she murmured. Her class presentation on the Rise of Humanity had drained her completely — but she was proud.
"Hmmm, that should do it," she said to herself, a small smile curling on her lips. "I deserve a snack."
Just as she stood up, a familiar voice called out.
"Eghosa! Eghosa!"
"Mom!" she shouted back, racing downstairs.
"Mummy, you called for me?"
"Yes, iye-me, I did," her mother said warmly. "Are you done with your homework?"
"Yes, Mummy. I just finished. I was about to grab a snack before you called me."
"Good. I wanted to remind you we'll be going to your uncle's place this weekend, so start preparing."
"Okay, Mummy, I've heard. Can I go back to my room? I still have a few topics to revise."
Her mother nodded. "Okay, my child. You can go."
"Mummy, what about my brother? Hasn't he returned yet?"
"No oh, not yet. He said he'll be back before the end of the month."
"Alright, Mummy. I'll be in my room. Call me if you need me."
---
Eghosa went back upstairs and opened her book, but no matter how hard she tried, her mind wouldn't focus.
She hated visiting her uncle's family. Their wealth came with arrogance, and their children treated her with little to no respect. Even their parents — blood relatives — looked down on her mother and brother.
Her mother's only response to Eghosa's complaints was always the same:
> "He who bends to serve will one day stand to be served."
So she endured. She learned to see the lesson in humiliation, the light in darkness — but it didn't mean she liked it.
> When will this life change?
When will my brother stop working himself to exhaustion just to keep us alive?
Her father had died a year after she was born. Her two sisters had strayed — early pregnancies, broken dreams, and shame to the family name. Only her brother had stood firm.
He was her role model. The man who paid her school fees, who bought them a small apartment, who made sure they never begged.
She wanted to be like him — strong, disciplined, and the one who could finally carry the family burden beside him.
---
Her comm rang sharply.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
"Hey Trisha, what's up?"
"Guess what — surprise!"
"You play too much. What surprise?"
"I'm at your gate. Come open up."
"Ah! Trisha! You'll kill me — you should've told me so I could warn my mom!"
"Hmmm, how do you know I didn't come to see your mumsy, eh? Open this gate, jhoor!"
"Okay, I'm coming!"
She ran downstairs in a hurry.
"Where are you rushing to?" her mother asked.
"Mummy, it's Trisha — she's at the gate!"
"Trisha? Quick, open it and let me see her face!"
"Okay, Mummy, I'm going!"
Eghosa called out teasingly, "So if I don't open the door, what will you do?"
Trisha smirked. "You sef know dem no born you well to try am."
"Hiss! Let me just pity you," Eghosa said, opening the gate.
"Pity keh? You should've refused first; you for see something, you fried fish!"
"Ah, Trisha! This your mouth, ehn—small joke and you've started insulting me!"
"Oya sorry! You too like daring me. Let's go in — your mum's waiting."
---
"Mummy, good evening oh!" Trisha greeted cheerfully.
"Good evening, my dear. What happened at the gate?"
"Your daughter didn't want to let me in!"
"Ah! Eghosa, is that true?"
"Mummy, I was just joking oh!"
"Don't try that again, you hear? Trisha is family."
Trisha grinned victoriously while Eghosa rolled her eyes.
Before long, the two of them were deep in gossip, talking about everything from school to random mischief — that was the Trisha effect.
Trisha came from a poor background too, but she had a rare gift — she could make anyone happy. With her fair skin, blue eyes, brunette hair, and slim, curvy figure, she drew attention wherever she went. Yet she never let it get to her head.
Among the two of them, Trisha was the more mature one, but both girls shared a deep, effortless bond.
"Ha! Do you agree with what Trisha just said?" Eghosa's mother interrupted.
"Huh? What did she say?"
"Don't tell me you've been daydreaming again!" Trisha laughed. "I said Ambrose Melissa is better than Mary Berry."
"Hell no!" Eghosa protested — and just like that, the gossip resumed until nightfall.
---
"Trisha," her mother called later, "I've called your aunty. You'll be staying here tonight. Your clothes will be delivered tomorrow. You both will go to school together, alright?"
"Okay, ma," they chorused.
"Good. I'm tired, so both of you should go to bed."
"Race you to the bed!" Trisha shouted.
"Slow what?!" Eghosa darted forward.
"Later you'll say I have a bad mouth," Trisha laughed, collapsing on the bed, "but you just called me slow shit."
"Hahaha! That's nothing compared to the things you've called me!"
---
A few moments of quiet passed.
"Eghosa, why aren't you sleeping?" Trisha whispered.
"Ah! Trisha, I keep thinking about tomorrow's exam. Only three people can win the mystery prize that could change their lives. I'm scared. What if we fail?"
Trisha smiled softly. "We won't. After all, we're the top two in the school. There's no reason to doubt ourselves."
"But it's not just our school. It's every city on the planet competing… for a prize we don't even know about. And this year, they said representatives from the United Nations of Earth will attend."
"All that is just noise," Trisha replied. "Challenges aren't reasons to give up — they're reasons to rise. So sleep, Eghosa. Tomorrow, we win… or nothing."
She extended her hand.
"Promise me that."
Eghosa smiled, gripping her friend's palm tightly.
"I promise. We're going to win."