ThunderCats Fanfiction Project (Ch 4 Episode 2)

Thundera is gone — and the Mutant Empire reels in the silence that follows.

As Rittler, Rataro, and Slithe struggle to understand the planet’s sudden collapse, suspicion and ambition ignite beneath the ashes. With the Thunderan nobles vanished into a radioactive void, the Mutants divide their forces between rebuilding, hunting, and exploiting the ruins… unaware that their greatest quarry still lives.

The Ashes Of Victory

Book 1 – Exile and Vigil – Chapter 4, Episode 2

Space rippled with the aftershock of Thundera’s death.

Rataro’s warship tore through the void at full burn, fleeing the expanding cloud of molten debris and radioactive dust. The planet behind him — once a jewel of the galaxy — was now a broken, burning wound in space, its fragments drifting like embers from a dying fire.

His bridge crew stared in stunned silence.

Rataro did not.

He slammed a fist against the arm of his command chair, snarling. “Pull us farther out! I want distance between us and that… that catastrophe!”

His officers obeyed, claws flying over their consoles.

He watched the remains of Thundera with a mixture of fury and disbelief.

Every Mutant fleet had unleashed nuclear fire across Thundera’s continents — a coordinated bombardment meant to break the Thunderans, not the planet itself. The strikes were devastating, yes, but not world‑ending.

And yet… the planet had crumbled.

His invasion force — the troops storming the capital, the battalions surrounding the palace, the fighter wings battling Thunderan air defenses — all gone. Vaporized. Lost in an instant.

Rataro’s jaw clenched.

This was not victory.

This was ruin.

A chime sounded — an incoming transmission.

Rataro straightened, forced his breathing steady, struck his chest with a closed fist, and bowed his head.

“I am honored, my Supreme Leader.”

The screen flickered to life.

Rittler sat upon the command throne of his distant flagship, his expression carved from fury and cold calculation.

“Rataro,” he hissed, “explain to me why my invasion force is gone.”

Rataro kept his posture rigid. “The planet… broke apart. We barely escaped.”

“You were closest to the surface,” Rittler snapped. “What did you see?”

Rataro’s lip curled. “Shockwaves. Energy surges. A collapse from within. Our bombardments were nowhere near powerful enough to cause this.”

Rittler’s eyes narrowed. “Then what did?”

Rataro hesitated.

Because he didn’t know.

And that terrified him.

Another chime.

A third face appeared — Slithe, broadcasting from his ship far from the blast zone. His expression was a mixture of confusion and opportunity.

“For the Leader and his kingdom,” Slithe said in greeting.

Rittler gave a curt nod.

Slithe continued, “I detected the nuclear detonation. Then… nothing. The Thunderan beacon network went dark. The convoy vanished from sensors.”

Rittler leaned forward. “Can you confirm their destruction?”

Slithe shook his head. “No. The radiation cloud blocks all readings. We cannot enter it. Not for days.”

Rataro growled. “They’re dead. They must be.”

Slithe’s eyes flicked sideways. “Must is not the same as are.”

Rittler slammed a clawed hand against his throne. “Enough. We cannot afford uncertainty. Our forces are crippled. Our armies on Thundera are gone. Our fleets are scattered.”

He took a slow breath, steadying himself.

“And the relics,” he said quietly, “are unaccounted for.”

His voice tightened — not with anger, but with something colder. Fear.

The bridge fell silent.

The Eye of Thundera. The Sword of Omens. The Book of Omens. The Claw Shield. And — though none of them knew it — the Key of Thundera.

All presumed to be aboard the royal flagship.

Rittler’s voice hardened. “We cannot allow the Thunderan nobles to escape with those relics. Not the prince. Not the royal line. Not the guardians.”

Slithe’s eyes gleamed. “Then I will hunt them.”

“You will,” Rittler said. “Follow the convoy’s last vector. If they survived, you will find them. If they died, you will recover the relics from their wreckage.”

Slithe bowed his head. “For the Leader and his kingdom.”

Rittler turned his gaze to Rataro.

“You,” he said, “will gather the survivors of your flotilla. Rally what remains. Then begin a systematic purge of Thunderan refugees across nearby systems.”

Rataro’s eyes lit with savage satisfaction.

“For the Leader and his kingdom,” he growled. “At last — a hunt worthy of the losses we suffered.”

“Find out what they know,” Rittler said. “If the Thunderans triggered the planet’s collapse, I want the truth.”

Rataro struck his chest in salute. “I am honored, my Supreme Leader.”

Slithe shifted slightly. “Supreme Leader… Lieutenant Vultaire has a proposal.”

Rittler’s eyes narrowed. “Speak.”

Slithe continued, “He believes the planet’s fragments may still contain viable Thundrillium deposits. If we establish a salvage operation, we could recover resources lost in the destruction.”

Rittler’s expression shifted — not to warmth, but to interest.

“Have Vultaire send his calculations to my science division,” he said. “If the debris field is stable enough, we will harvest what remains of Thundera.”

Slithe bowed. “For the Leader and his kingdom.”

Rittler looked between his subordinates — one burning with rage, one hungry for advancement, one already calculating profit.

“Slithe — pursue the nobles. Bring me the relics.”

Slithe grinned. “They will not escape.”

“Rataro — scour the nearby systems. Make the Thunderans pay for every Mutant lost.”

Rataro’s claws flexed. “Gladly.”

“And I,” Rittler said, “will return to Plun‑Darr. We will rebuild our armies. We will reclaim our strength. And when we are ready…”

His voice dropped to a cold whisper.

“…we will conquer new worlds.”

The screens went dark.

Rataro stared at the empty space where Thundera had once been.

Slithe stared at the distant stars ahead, imagining the hunt.

Rittler stared at his own reflection, seeing not defeat — but the beginning of a new war.

None of them knew the truth.

None of them knew what Jaga had done.

None of them knew the Sword of Plun‑Darr still existed — buried deep within the shattered core of the world they had just destroyed.

And in that darkness, something ancient stirred — unseen, unfelt, but not dead.

None of them knew that the Thunderan nobles were still alive.

For now.

***

Thus ends The Ashes of Victory.

In the shadow of a shattered world, the Mutant Empire fractures, regroups, and sharpens its claws.

New vows are sworn, new hunts begin, and the path toward Third Earth is set in motion.

The chase has not yet begun — but the war has.

Continue the Saga

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Disclaimer

This work is a piece of fan fiction inspired by the ThunderCats franchise. All characters, settings, and original concepts from ThunderCats are the property of their respective rights holders. I do not own the rights to ThunderCats, nor do I claim any affiliation with its owners. This story is a transformative retelling created for creative expression and audience engagement, not as a commercial product.

AI Collaboration Statement

In creating this work, I collaborated with Microsoft Copilot as a creative tool within my writing process. Every element of this saga — its emotional architecture, mythic logic, themes, and direction — originates from my design. Copilot assisted by generating draft language in response to the direction and creative vision I provided. I then revised, reshaped, and rewrote those drafts extensively, ensuring the final text reflects my voice, my choices, and my vision. This is a guided, intentional collaboration that honors both the craft of writing and the legacy of the original ThunderCats universe.