I Became A Zompirewolf



In the distant reaches of the Milky Way galaxy, hidden away from the bustling centre of civilisations, was a desolate sector known as Ombra. 

Once a vibrant and lively region, it was home to several star systems teeming with life and diversity. Planets thrived with advanced civilisations, each flourishing with their own unique cultures and technologies.

However, this prosperity would not last forever. The resource-rich sector had always been in the eyes of many intergalactic civilisations, as it was only a matter of time before they all acted to force their will upon the dwellers there. 

As the galactic powers expanded and their thirst for resources grew, Ombra became a coveted territory. Fierce battles erupted between rival factions vying for control, leaving destruction and devastation in their wake.

The inhabitants of Ombra's star systems were caught in the crossfire of these relentless conflicts. Planets were scorched, cities were reduced to ruins, and entire populations were wiped out. The once lively worlds turned into barren wastelands, haunted by the ghosts of the past.

Amidst the chaos and destruction, the inhabitants of Ombra were left to struggle for survival. They clung to the remnants of their civilisations, desperately trying to rebuild and defend their homes. But the constant wars and strife had taken a toll, leaving them weary and broken. 

As the decades passed, Ombra became a desolate and forgotten sector, shrouded in darkness and despair. The stars themselves seemed to weep for the once-thriving worlds, now reduced to mere shadows of their former glory.

A lone figure wandered the barren landscape on one such desolate planet, a wasteland known as Nefarion. His name was Varian, and he was a Zyrilian, a reptilic-humanoid species that once lived on Nefarion.

The man was searching for answers amidst the ruins of his once-great civilisation under the guise of working for the Xyrans. 

Even though Varian was now a part of the Xyran armada, working as a miner extracting the resources Nefarion had to offer, he couldn't help but feel a tinge of hatred towards them as they were the ones who targeted and destroyed many of the sector's planets. 

"If only there was someone who could deal with these bastards..." A sudden beeping noise brought him back to his senses. "Fuck! I forgot about to clock out! Eh, whatever; it's not like those dictators would care about a missing miner."

As he walked through the remnants of a once-bustling city, Varian could not help but feel a profound sense of loss. 

Memories of a time long gone flooded his mind, of laughter and joy that had once filled the streets. Now, all that remained were crumbling buildings and the echoes of a forgotten past.

Varian was seven when the Xyrans forced them to evacuate the planet, and since the Zyrilians believed the Xyrans to be representatives of the almighty, they readily did so. 

Little did they know that the Xyrans were doing nothing more than 'population' control and slaughtered millions of Zyrilians and enslaved those who remained... maybe colonising would be a better-suited term. 

After all, Xyrans integrated the Zyrilians into their society as low-ranking individuals who were suitable to become foot soldiers, miner workers, or in most cases, servants. 

Varian, like most of his people, hated the conditions that were forced upon them but were too weak to object. Those who did were never seen or heard from again... which was enough to scare the rest of them. 

As Varian explored further, he stumbled upon the ruins of a grand library, a treasure trove of knowledge and history. The sight was both heartening and heartbreaking, as he saw countless books and scrolls reduced to dust. 

Zyrilians were known for their hunger for knowledge and never really bothered expanding their military strength. By the time they realised the need to defend themselves, it was too late. 

Now their knowledge was long gone. Destroyed by the hands of those whom they hailed as the messenger of the almighty. 

As Varian picked up what remained of their religious texts, his armband went berserk once again; this time, it was glowing yellow.

All colours got drained from his face as he realised the Xyrans were looking for him and had declared code yellow, which referred to a worker going off the grid. 

"Damn it!" Varian cursed, his face losing all colour. 

He knew what this meant; the Xyrans were on his trail and closing in fast. He had to act quickly.

Hurriedly, Varian made his way towards the exit, hoping to escape before the Xyrans could apprehend him. But just as he was about to reach the door, a powerful kick sent him sprawling backwards. Before him stood Nishkca, the manager of the mine where Varian worked

The golden-skinned bastards had surrounded him, and Varian knew he was in a world of pain. 

"Sightseeing, are we?" Nishkca sneered, pressing his boot against Varian's face. "Trying to relive the past, perhaps? You could have asked for a day off if you were that desperate, you know."

Struggling to catch his breath, Varian glared up at Nishkca, defiance burning in his eyes. 

"I wasn't sightseeing," he retorted, his voice laced with anger. "I was trying to save what's left of our history, something you know nothing about."

Nishkca scoffed, his wings fluttering with annoyance. "History is irrelevant," he declared coldly. 

"The Xyrans have brought progress and prosperity to Ombra, and the past is nothing more than a hindrance to that progress. Your sentimental attachment to those old relics is what's holding you back."

Laughter echoed around them as Nishkca brandished his plasma knuckles, ready to strike Varian. The Xyrans surrounding them revelled in the sight of impending violence. However, their amusement was short-lived as a slow clap filled the air, drawing their attention away from Varian.

"Man... these Xyrans never cease to amaze me!" The voice came from none other than Ashton, who strolled into the library without any care for the Xyrans around him. "You really do have a talent for concealing your misdeeds."

The Xyrans turned to face the newcomer, and their amusement quickly turned to confusion. Who was this man who dared to mock them in their own territory?

Ashton grinned mischievously, his eyes glinting with amusement and defiance. He took a few steps closer to Varian, unafraid of the hostile gazes directed at him. 

"You see, I was passing by and couldn't help but overhear your delightful little discussion. Truly, it's fascinating to witness the lengths you go to maintain your facade of righteousness."

"Who the hell are you?" Nishkca's scowl deepened, and he raised his plasma knuckles menacingly.

"Oh, you don't know me?" Ashton shrugged. His mask was doing its job concealing his identity. "That makes my job a tad bit easier."