My name is Golddih. I live on the planet Nigardius, a world inhabited solely by darker-skinned people. Last year, we discovered the existence of another race—lighter-skinned beings we call Whiterius. This revelation sparked a brutal conflict: they drove us from their planet, Whiterganda.
Two hundred years ago, our species coexisted in harmony. But without warning or justification, the Whiterians ejected the Nigardians from Whiterganda. A few of us remained behind, hiding amidst the new regime. These survivors are the hardest workers we have: stealing constantly from the Whiterians, bringing everything to Nigardius. Our exile has dragged on for approximately 177 years, and tensions have reached a fever pitch. In our most recent offensive, we inflicted serious casualties on the Whiterians—a pivotal moment in our war.
I hold the title of pimp, which gives me authority over the gangsters in our ranks. Yesterday, I received a direct command from our majestic ruler, King Blackus: "Launch a final, decisive assault—Whiterganda is weakened; now is the time." But that's not all—we captured two Whiterians soldiers, and King Blackus is unaware of this intelligence. I, alongside my seasoned comrade Jamalirus, embarked on an urgent mission to interrogate them.
Jamalirus glared at the prisoners. "You've got less than two minutes. Tell us exactly how much food and how many ships you've got left. We demand half."
Whiterian #1, shaken and pale, whispered, "We have hardly any food—barely enough for ourselves…"
Whiterian#2 sneered, breaking into unhinged laughter: "It doesn't matter—our king, King Whitensburg, is already on his way!" His voice echoed with madness.
Jamalirus and I raced through the corridors, desperate to inform our king. But we were too late—Whitensburg had already arrived on Nigardius. We reached the throne room only to find the gates open, the drums of war silenced, and the enemy standing before us. King Blackus sat in stunned silence, caught off guard.
Our world stands at a crossroads. With two enemy soldiers captured and the Whiterians monarch at our doorstep, the next move could decide the fate of both races. And all we can do now is watch—I clutch my weapon, heart pounding—and wait.