September 30th, year 3510 of the Historical Era

Alfred looked in the direction of the sun, but he could hardly spot it out of all the other stars in space of the outskirts of the solar system.  He was thousands of megameters from Earth and his loving family.  He would return to them after his talk with Choron Orion, but something worried beyond reason was gnawing at him in the back of his mind.
He moved towards the cogpit of the ship as they neared their destination.  And he saw the planet Pluto and it’s moons: the one that was nearly half the size of it’s planet, Choron, and the insignificant looking smaller two, Nix and Hydra.  Alfred’s eyes were soon drawn to the millions of lights coming from Choron City.  The city was facing Pluto on Choron.  The city’s lights looked almost as bright as the sun (that wasn’t really saying to much this far from the sun).  It was as if Choron was slowly turning into a tiny star.
“Attention, this is Spaceman First Class Adlai Lucas of the spacecraft Centauri coming in from Amsterdam City, requesting permission to land,” the pilot stated on the com-chan.
“Spaceman Lucas, this is Choron City Watchtower.  You have permission to land in docking-bay #7,” a female voice replied.
“Confirmed,” was the pilot’s only reply as he came closer to Choron City.
Choron City was a massive fifty square kilometers in size.  The Gibson Tower in the center of it all reached up twenty-five kilometers.  This was the tallest tower in the entire system, perhaps in the whole galaxy.  They headed for docking-bay #7 at the base of the tower.  The door opened like a huge sphincter.
“The gate will close once you’ve entered the docking-bay,” the watchtower said, “Please wait until we’ve announced absolute pressurization before leaving the ship.”
“Will do,” the pilot said, “Wouldn’t want me to have my eyes sucked from their sockets, would yah, beautiful?”
“Don’t call me that,” watchtower said, starting to sound annoyed.
After a rather long wait (Alfred wasn’t sure exactly how long), the female voice said, “All right, pilot.  The air has been pressurized.  You may exit at you leisure.”
As Alfred left the ship, he saw a tall man warring black, grey, and violet.  It wasn’t a bright and cheery violet, nor a royal and dignified violet.  It was a strange, glowing, almost demented violet.
“Greetings,” Alfred said, retaining his dignity, “I am Elvian International Adviser Alfred Benjamin Polaris.  I have come to speak with Arche-Admiral Choron Orion of Elvi.”
“Welcome to Choron City,” the other answered, “you will be surprised to know that we share a surname.  I am Malus Polaris.  Your host awaits you.  Please follow me.”
Malus led the adviser to an elevator that brought them to the top floor of the Gibson Tower.  The trip gave him time to think about what to say to the Arche-Admiral.  The elevator opened to a room with windows covering almost all of the wall-space.  It provided a fantastic view of Choron City.  In the room, only one tall man stood.
“International Adviser Alfred Benjamin Polaris is here to see you, sire,” Malus said.
“Did he just call Choron “sire”?” Alfred thought.
Choron turned to face them.  His silver colored hair reached down to his shoulders, looking like strands of silk hanging off of the elderly man’s head.  He was well over 80 years old, but he still carried a youthful appearance.  However, his deep, grey eyes shined with decades of experience.  He too, wore black, grey, and the same violet.  However, Orion also wore a cape with similar colors.
“Very favorable, Malus.  Withdraw from us,” Choron answered.
Choron’s voice was eloquent and melodious, but it was also deep and dark.  The sound of it sent a chill up Alfred’s spine.  Orion was rumored to have a hypnotic voice.  This rumor, Alfred now believed.
“Why have you approached me?” Choron said, once Malus left.
He didn’t ask it; he demanded it.  Alfred felt compelled to answer but restrained himself from doing so.  He had to focus on his assignment.  But why would he be having trouble with it?
“I have many questions for you, sir,” he somehow managed to say.
“But you have yet to acknowledge my inquiry.  Why have you approached me!?”
“The Elvian High Counsel wants to know if you are still mentally unstable,” Alfred said without thinking–as if he was being controlled by some unseen force.
Choron laughed a cold, dark laugh then said, “Whatever furnished such an idea within their minds?”
“Because you claimed–”
Alfred bit his tongue to stop himself.  Choron must have been bewitching Alfred into telling him what he wanted to know.  But wouldn’t that be impossible?  Either way, Alfred had to keep the information from him.  And yet, somehow, it seemed like Orion already knew all of this.  Alfred’s legs buckled underneath him.  His body felt much heavier than it did a moment ago.
Choron cupped his hand under the man’s chin and said, “Now now, there is no necessity for that assortment of behavior.  Simply respond to the question that I have asked.”
“You claimed to be a god.  Obviously you’re crazy!”
“Oh, so when Jesus Christ declared that He was God it was acceptable, but when I–”
“This has nothing to do with him.  And that’s not the only evidence of your insanity.”
“Really?  Do enlighten me.”
“You rejected your birth-name, used technology as a crutch, shaming the noble country of Elvi on both accounts, and tried to kill a man.”
Choron slapped him, forcing him to the floor, and continued: “The Elvian Counsel is now controlled by weaklings.  They sit and beg for scraps at the New United Nations Summit.  They have become the lapdogs of the pitiful humans.  They no longer hold on to the honor and pride that they once possessed.  The honor and pride that my generation sustained.  Why should we service them?”
Alfred looked up off the floor at the man and said, “Last time I checked, you were human.  But now I’m not so sure.  Now I know that you’re just a monster.”
“I am not either. I am the approaching representation of Homo Saipan evolution.  Elvians have unlocked more than half of the fully dormant portions of the minds, but I...”
He stopped to laugh then said, “I have unlocked the fullness of my already comprehensive mind.  My spirit-sense is so substantial that I can perceive every mind in this entire city.”
Suddenly, Alfred felt his body raise into the air.  It was as if someone was lifting him up by his armpits, but there was no one around but Choron, who was facing him with his left arm extended towards Alfred.  He was pulled up until he was at least a meter above the floor.
“My telekinesis is so powerful,” Choron continued, “that–well, you understand what I am trying to convey.  I am invincible!  I am the High Master Lord, Choron Orion.  I am the Supreme Being!  I am God!”
At that moment, he tore off Alfred’s arms and legs with his telekinesis.  Alfred let out a bloodcurdling scream.  The last thing he heard was Choron laughing.  He wished that he never came to Choron City.  His last thoughts centered on why Choron would do this to him.  This was the first of many deaths, in the Martyr War.