Ancient Technology — although most were lost in the last ancient war, was the peak of even modern galactic technology. The designs of the runic structure remain devastated in the war and remain a wonder all the mechanists of this generation struggle to understand — and possibly replicate.
Technologies of the ancient generations like "Spatial Genetic Modifications" and "Advanced Mechanoid Developments" are still found very difficult to completely utilise. Humanity had reached the point where intergalactic travel was easily affordable for most of its population but still struggled to decipher ageing technology. It was something most found self-depreciatingly humorous, whilst others revered it.
Some believed that the gods had granted their ancestors these technologies, and then abandoned the human race after the massive losses they incurred in the war. Others believed that the war had birthed a high number of dedicated geniuses who devoted their lives to developing hellish technologies to destroy the opposition they faced.
−−−
“Thud! Thud! Thud!”
Once, twice, thrice — over and over, they kept hitting him without hesitation. The children gathered around the curled-up target, raining kicks and punch all over his body. They were confused as to why the bullied did not cry in pain or retaliate, but they kept hitting with all their strength. After a while, their hands and legs began to hurt, and they retreated in confusion and fear.
“Freak…” One muttered as he stumbled back, falling unto his butt before gathering himself up and skipping away without looking back.
“Monster…” Another cried before darting off.
Soon, only their target was left curled up on the ground, light bruises all over his body. He looked just around their age, definitely not visibly physically stronger or tougher. After confirming that they had all left, the young boy uncurled himself from his position, his movement quite robotic and monotonous.
Beneath him was a motionless cat. It purred slightly, indicating that it still housed a bit of life within itself, despite the visible scratches all over its metallic body. The young boy picked it up carefully, relief flashing in his eyes after confirming that the cat was okay. Of course, this was his pet — a gift from his father years ago.
It had no special abilities and wasn't flagship tier or anything. Despite the average specifications, he still loved the cat dearly. The other kids wanted to steal the cat away from him, and although it wasn't very valuable, he defended the cat with his body. So they all ganged up to beat him until he submitted.
Unlike average humans, he was highly modified in defensive and offensive capabilities. The former was tested by the other youngsters, who he believed would think twice before attacking him again. Although it wouldn’t put an end to the bullying, at least they would learn to keep away from his cat.
“Display “Health Statistics Table.” The young boy muttered calmly, an emotionless gleam appearing in his eyes after he had successfully gotten his cat in a secure position. He raised his eyes slowly, locking on to the virtual display that had materialised before his eyes — the system.
[Health 99.7%]
[Wounds: Bruises (light -0.3), Negated Bleed Buff; Fractures (right shoulder -2), Negated Immobilization Buff]
[Sickness: (None)]
[Body Functions: Average]
He sighed, glad that there was nothing for him to worry about except his shoulder. Well, the other children were not responsible for it — he had damaged his shoulder from a fall during a war that occurred years ago. He lost his family to the war and only managed to keep this cat and a few other valuables until he was rescued and brought to this place with the other children.
He looked around calmly; he had lost his sense of direction. After seconds of looking around hopelessly, he sighed and began walking forward. There were a lot of guards patrolling the area, he believed he could stop one for directions and then find his way back to the base settlement. He gazed forward, numerous buildings scattered before him in a twirling maze.
"Nyra, why are there ten roads leading in one direction?" The young boy blinked twice, catching his reflection on a piece of glass some metres away from his position. He examined his face calmly, catching a slight bruise across his cheeks. He reached for his face instinctively and then rubbed it softly.
At least he knew he was high on something wild. Not like children were allowed to interact with stuff like that, but it was only a year before he could be considered an adult and he might have accidentally tried the strange substance. Of course, he wasn’t implying that he smoked or anything like that.
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“Mark!”
Mark, the young boy holding the cat in his arms — turned around to see a young man running towards him.
"I had picked up your location and was hurrying here as fast as I could." The man was a guard; he was armed and wore the standard armour for low-end colony guards. He was fairly agile, and very loud, given the distance between them and Mark's ability to hear his loud call.
He did not even have to do anything before help arrived. That was how effective the leash around them was, there were very few chances for any sort of rebellious adventure in the base facilities. Guards were on patrol every hour of the day, leaving no room to feed the stubborn desire of a child for a fun adventure.
"I heard you have a faulty proximity sensor, just walk behind me without diverting your gaze carelessly, and you will be fine. As for the other children, I will surely find time to talk with them about this bad behaviour they exhibit before an ally." The guard finally reached Mark, sighing in relief after confirming Mark had not been injured badly by any of the kids. He calmed himself down and then turned around to lead Mark away.
Mark just followed silently. He knew that despite all these warnings and pep talks from the guards, the kids would never give up. They are barely getting along with themselves, much less a stranger. As far as they kept a distance from his belongings, Mark decided to just bear through it all. He had no desire to fight back with no reason given for doing so, as he was just not cut out for things like that.
“So how have you been holding up, ignoring all the annoying bullies and everything? I know we are unable to render you the best with our limited facilities, but I hope that you are doing okay?” The guard asked with his back still turned to Mark, stopping periodically to check his map if they had deviated from their direction with his head bowed slightly.
“I miss home. That is all I can say.” Mark petted his cat, his eyes flashing in a chaotic mix of emotions as he kept thinking back to the war. He found it difficult to adapt to it all, despite his emotionless front − a face he had trained to perfection from childhood — he was internally struggling with all the new ideas and people.
“So do us all.” The guard added, leading Mark up a tiled walkway that led directly to Mark’s barracks. He slowed down, greeting the guards that they passed. Of course, he made sure to say a thing or two once in a while, ensuring that he was still leading Mark and not his shadow.
“I see.”
−−−
After reaching his barracks, Mark bowed to the guard. As soon as the young man disappeared into the night, Mark turned around to the building behind him. Slate walls, steel doors, barred windows, and the surrounding building are all wasted ruins. The door looked jarringly tough and intimidating, but despite the sheer size and constantly tested durability — it was not the worst door to get locked behind in this place.
Of course, the children constantly put the patience of the guards and workers to the test, so now and then they would pick up an unlucky wrongdoer and throw them into a real lock. The doors were made of some unknown stone and metal alloy, and riddled with locks and security codes. He was not gifted enough to get himself locked there, but the tales of his ‘comrades’ never ceased to amaze him.
He knocked twice, and the door was slowly dragged open from the inside. As soon as he stepped inside, he looked around carefully and then scowled. His eyes locked on to a shadow at the corner of his barracks, a cold gleam flashing in his eyes. Mark turned to the worker assigned to him, smiling at the middle-aged woman as she took her leave — trying his best to keep calm.
As soon as he locked the door behind the old woman, Mark turned to the shadow in his room,
"What is the meaning of this? Guards and Workers are not allowed in the children's barracks unless specifically assigned to them. I am also extremely curious as to why the worker assigned to me managed to miss the existence of such a large entity like you."
The shadow stepped forward; he was not dressed like a guard nor in the silver robes of a worker like the woman earlier. He was dressed in casual clothes, seemingly not to have put any effort into his dressing at all, with everything looking so basic. He smiled with a strange light in his eyes, "Do you underestimate our influence in this world? These weaker lowbornes do not have the power to resist me."
Mark sighed, withdrawing his coldness completely with numerous alarms blaring in his head as he dropped his cat on a bed by the side of the door. He raised his head to see the stranger patiently waiting for him, his smile maintained. After preparing himself, Mark opened his mouth to speak, “What manner of altercation do you intend to drag children into?”
“Altercation? No, this is far more — greater than just a mere squabble between two factions. The Descents will begin in a few years from now; I am gathering every Origin Descender for training — or what was left of their uncalculated demise at least.” The man snapped his fingers, “The issue is that this training is not like us at all, but seeing how pathetically weak you all are — I can’t imagine what would happen once it begins.”
"I am going to decline, respectfully." Mark frowned. This man was here to render him the same fate as his parents… grandparents… great-grandparents… and so on. Mark wanted to return home, but his home was already lost — yet here was this man, offering to claim more civilisations and more lives with a smile on his face. It disgusted him greatly, so much so that Mark wanted to scrunch up his nose.
“Do you believe you have a choice?” The atmosphere transformed, a blistering coldness descending upon the room as the man gazed down upon Mark with a strange gleam in his eye. He stood there, his presence alone releasing waves of a freezing power throughout the room, “and I do not recall giving you or anyone else a choice.”
Mark stood there, extremely calm. He felt bullied, bullied by someone somewhat stronger into doing what he did not want to do. Every one of them, trying to remote him into doing what only fitted their goals and beliefs. Unacceptable! Mark stood his ground, he wasn’t going to throw his life away just like his parents — he had a choice, and he was not going to waver.
“I see you refuse to succumb, weakling. How are you going to avenge your parents’ death, if you are this scared of dying? You are pathetic, living with these lowbornes must have dulled your desire for battle — let me help you, help you claim what you desire.” The young man reached out his hand, the temperature of the room already dropping to staggeringly negative numbers.
Mark froze.