____ Era 1. Period 1. \\\

As the hurried footsteps continue to beat down upon the stairwells, the sound echoes through the maze-like complex of indefinite size and shape obscured. It's as if the buildings themselves are alive, a conglomerate of concrete and steel that seems to shift and move with each passing moment. The dilapidated structures, their walls stained with grime and decay, stand in stark contrast to the surrounding chaos.

The streets are deserted, save for the occasional rat scurrying across the pavement. Even the crows that once roosted on the buildings' rooftops have taken to the sky, their raucous cries a warning to any who would dare venture too close.

Faded graffiti paints the walls, covered by heavy layers of dark smoke and black, dusty material. The cracks in the streets and sidewalks give the impression of being spread out haphazardly, like a swarm of confused krill. It's a place where time appears to have stopped, where the world has been left to rot and decay.

So filthy is the land that even the sky mocks and raves at the depravity of its opposite. The air is thick with ashen smoke, and the sky above is a perpetual black. Only occasional flickers of rabid green light followed by thunderous cracks break the darkness, signalling the quaking impact that the phenomenon causes. The bolts of vermillion never warrant any substantial amount of intentions. The neon bolts of molten gold, however, do.

The thunderous roar of artillery echoed through the air, a sound that attempted to split the very earth beneath their feet. The mighty barrel of the guns seemed to have a cruel sense of humour, as it rained destruction down upon the opposition it was directed at. Clouds of smoke and spheres of gold and emerald clashed and fought for dominance, leaving devastation in their wake. Their arcs were so large that they could be observed from several miles away, until their deafening clamors announced their arrival to the astigmatic.

As the chaos continued to unfold, armoured personnel carriers began to roll in. They looked more like spiky porcupines than any tank ever made, with guns protruding from every conceivable angle. Larger cannons were attached to the turret, a weapon whose purpose and effectiveness had been maximized by years of perpetual conflict. Their hulls were painted with a material that absorbed all light and heat within a radius, rendering them nearly invisible within four meters.

The scene was hectic and chaotic after that. The cacophony of gunfire, explosions, and metal scraping against metal was almost unbearable. But even amidst the chaos, there was almost a certain beauty to be found. The golden spheres of the artillery shimmered in the sunlight, while the emerald explosions seemed to light up the sky like a million fireflies. The armoured personnel carriers, with their fearsome appearance, were almost like beasts of legend come to life.

As the arrival of infantry was announced with the crack of small arms, the scene changed from one of Nexonian imperial might to one of utter indiscriminate carnage. The streets, once filled with the sounds of rats and crows, were now overrun with the deafening clamour of battle. Cloaked figures, their faces obscured save for the harsh golden light emitted from their visors, peeked out from the dilapidated buildings, unleashing a heavy bombardment of gunfire towards the newest arrivals.

The opposing troops, clad in dark armour and wielding state-of-the-art weaponry, quickly returned suppressing fire, their ammunition punching holes straight through feet of concrete. Limbs flew as the ordinance was used, and combatants of both sides combusted sporadically as great energy bolts rained down in arcs from the sky.

Amidst the chaos, the armoured personnel carriers rolled down the streets like porcupines, their guns protruding from every corner, firing relentlessly at any target that presented itself. The tanks launched powerful missiles that impacted the buildings with devastating force, sending entire chunks of concrete crashing to the ground.

Shrapnel detonated into the air, indiscriminately raining down upon both defenders and assaulters alike. The buzzing of machine guns echoed through the city, muffled only by the sheer thickness of the toxic gas building up from the explosions and fires. The defenders soon disappeared into the darkness one by one as the gunfire intensified, with the entire building shaking under the ferocious bombardment of the military force.

But the attackers were relentless. Breach by breach, door by door, they rooted out the insurgents who had been hiding in the rundown buildings. Improvised traps and ear-piercing war cries could be heard as men were silenced, but the attackers pressed on. Eventually, all presence of insurgent activity was rooted out, and the procedure was a success.

The destruction that followed this procedure is necessary. Traces of Insurgency must be removed posthaste, lest they fester and grow beyond the Primroses' ability to control. The Primrose is not the Nexus - it is a scientific branch not meant to deal with the full force of Insurgency operations. This in turn allows any damages created whilst fighting Insurgency forces in this new world to be justified. Thus, my actions are justified.

Me. Just another faceless initiate serving a purpose in this new world, a cog in the machine of war. The one-way trips here are a constant reminder of the sacrifices made for the greater good. I can't help but think back to the barracks, where life was routine: training, rationed meals, weapon maintenance, and sleep. There was no room for anything else. No excitement, no thrill, no purpose beyond the mission.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Here, there can only be the progression of the cause. Removing the heads of dissenters, quelling rebellions, and contributing to the progression of the Cause. Simply another expeditionary movement to some outskirt territory. But for now, thinking is secondary. The action takes priority.

As I trudge through the barren city, I can’t help but be confused at the strangeness of this new world. When first arriving at this primitive world, some types of subhuman organisms greeted their arrival with curiosity, appearing not to have left the bleak cityscape.

Naturally, the filthy ferals were gunned down without hesitation by me and my battalion. However, they seemed to be capable of some form of magic foreign to our databases capable of allowing energy-directed beams utilizing some type of black mineral ingrained within themselves they called originium. I scoffed, remembering the memory.

When first arriving on this wasteland of a planet, the SHARD, a Specialized Hardwired Assault and Recon Deployment, entered the atmosphere with massive turbulence. Interference with some new form of interference immediately shut down a majority of the functions of the SHARD. Without the reverse thrusters active, atmospheric entry immediately became shaky.

As I am told by a bluestocking, the outer layers of the craft became purgatory white as death-inducing heat is generated by friction rubbing against the shell. Damage only further increased as the landing impacted somewhere in the finite depths of the ocean, the entire structure’s streamlined structure slipping into the sea as a sharp needle dropped towards the water.

Immediately, contact was established as some CoTactors intercepted a signal trail, the connection overlaying the entirety of this world's murky depths. Millions, if not billions of minds are connected in some fashion where one can know what the neighbour is thinking, for they share their minds. An effective way of living, yet not without its drawbacks.

Such a drawback was exploited. While ConTractors were built to intercept hectic communications as well as crack them, it was never meant to connect to a planetary-wide network. This, in turn, resulted in the unfortunate overheating of the device, though not before compiling a general profile of the sapients within the seas and those who dwell within solid geo.

It told the stories of a hivemind of seaborn creatures, in conflict with abhumans bearing the traits of aquatics. The tales of a planet of squalid abhumans, and as abhumans act, their inability to even use even the simplest diplomatic means to engage in peace, and excluding that, incapable of even the most basic forms of warfare.

Though in all honesty, while their irrelevant violence and savagery are horrid, it is still forgivable in the face of their greatest sin, something fundamental to anything of intelligence: Innovation. These abhumans stagnate, incapable of developing even the most basic of technology, instead relying on mobile platforms for dozens of years.

Their cities expand at the pace of a crippled snail, the industry nearly forgotten. Their weapons relied instead on the cold metal of swords and bows instead of the venerated heat of discharge - inexcusable even in measurements of symbolism for there is a lack of it. Vehicles might as not exist out of motorized vehicles and a scant few aircraft, navies too difficult to build for most of these weak nations, said nations mistaking population for power.

It speaks to the measure of stupidity when non-humans align with the philosophy of the Great Innovation, and to a respectable degree at that.

The profile, however, highlighted a key issue. We will be outnumbered severely if we were ever to come into conflict with any of these iconoclastic groups. With the necessity of resource extraction as a result of the resource quota, such a conflict will be unfortunately unavoidable. With the uncivilized abhumans seeming unable to negotiate like civilized races.

Yet, that will be taken care of in time. I know of it, my faith in the Primrose dictates that past expeditions have encountered such problems in other more heretical and hazardous worlds, and these events are still taken into account.

It was later, to no Nexonians' surprise, that we were enlightened by the intellectuals of our proceedings. We, in an act of diplomacy and consideration, would settle upon a dead stagnating city long abandoned by their government. However, when the Intelligence Agents confirmed the presence of Insurgent Forces on this planet, my muscles tensed, my throats tightened, and like others, even growled an unholy sound akin to a rabid canine.

Even more, to my chagrin, these insurrectionists even dared to settle upon the holy land we have claimed as a home base. We were to immediately set upon a path of termination, to remove all traces of these heathens from our planet.

Thus, at that time, I set out to do my duty.