____ Era 1. Period 2. \\\

Purge. Purge. Purge. Reload. Purge. Purge. Purge. Purge. Purge. Purge. Purge. Reload. Purge. Jammed. Wait, no, it's jammed. Remove the shell. Cock the gun. Aim. Purge. Purge. Purge. Purged.

Targets deceased. I make the necessary noises to confirm my role in this mission's success. I step over the corpses of allies and hostiles alike, their corpses disintegrating into flakes of red and green, respectively. Another day passes. Another day streaks by like the light of the dawn - quickly fleeting.

It has been weeks. We have the same orders: spread out, find signals, purge, extract, and purge. My rifle requires cleansing from the gore taken upon its steel, the blood now taking on a noticeable rusting tint upon its hardened metal. Despite this stagnation of tasks, we are now requested to take samples. Organic, crystalline, or even simple hydrogen, matters not, for it is a silver lining.

With new information from the SHARD that has been released regarding the fate of the subjects taken, we have now learned further about this land we now stand upon. From that, this land can only be called pure heresy, with no chance of redemption in the light of new information.

These primitives have the technology to advance, to improve. It is of no matter that they could not, for they can, and yet they did not. A lack of innovation, not a lack of necessity. It is instead a trademark trait of abhumans: hubris and flawed rationality. Yet, they appear to be advanced in some divisions of technology, yet utterly primitive in others.

Despite their capabilities, these beings seem to have fallen into a pattern of stagnation. They are content to remain in their current state and are resistant to change, which has become a defining trait of abhuman culture. This lack of progress is due not to a lack of necessity, but rather to a lack of innovation.

One of the key issues facing the abhumans is their belief that mere "catastrophes" prevent them from building and researching future developments. This mindset allows the current status quo to persist, and as a result, the abhumans are falling behind other societies.

As someone who is intimately involved in the fires of war, I find it incomprehensible that these beings are not more focused on the preservation of their species. Their lack of faith and foresight is infuriating, and I am filled with an almost unbearable rage at their failure to recognize the consequences of their inaction.

It should be evident to even the lowliest foot soldier or executive that to cease innovating is to fall behind and lose the battle. When the battle is lost, the equivalent consequence of that act is the eradication of their species. Yet, despite this knowledge, the abhumans seem to remain ignorant of even the barest amount of ordinance, content to remain in their stagnant state.

***********

When the intellectuals first claimed that these abhumans used firearms to a lesser degree, I had assumed that perhaps in their economy, firearms were too expensive for the average fodder. It appears not only was I correct on that front, but the abhumans also were incapable of using guns without some form of the innate power of controlling Originium, a type of rock with high amounts of energy.

The same rock that's shipped along with other things back to the SHARD through...something. Something I, as a private, am not privy to. All I am to do after reassignment is to watch over the transportation of substances onto the ships.

Even despite my sacred duty to the Primrose, I cannot help but let my mind wander aloft with its thoughts. From the reports of newer operators encountering exotic life forms mimicking the holy forms of an arachnid of Earthling origin. Lower calibre firearms fail to penetrate the shells of these creatures consistently. Natives to this planet have been seen to use crossbows of all things to terminate these mutated spiders.

As for what appears to be an unrelated byproduct, troops are now told to keep their distance from hostile forces due to high physical strength and now to treat all bolt-type weapons with the lethality of a NirvestaMusket™.

My thoughts must break and reassert themselves upon the proper task of accounting and inspecting the to-be-shipped crates.

***********

As the weeks passed, turning into months, the abandoned city ship seemed to have become more desolate. There were no signs of any sentient life forms for quite some time. A few weeks prior, some abhumans were found, but they were quickly taken away by a foreign faction whose identity remained mostly unknown, except for the insignia they left behind, which pointed to Rhode Island being the primary culprit.

Despite Our martial might, our high command issued orders for us to retreat further into the core of the city ship. The reason for this move was to reinforce and establish dominance and also to minimize the possibility of our exposure to the unstable political stage of this world's primitive society.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

The deeper we moved into the city ship, the more mutated creatures we encountered. Some of them were so grotesque and dangerous that we had to resort to using Condensed Flammenwerfers to neutralize them. However, the use of these weapons necessitated that we wear masks while navigating the tunnels. It was a minor annoyance, but it could also be a significant hazard, as some of the creatures we encountered had a highly infectious and deadly disease.

Despite the difficulties we faced, we pushed forward, driven by the need to fulfil our mission. We had no idea what other challenges awaited us in the depths of the city ship, but we were ready to face them head-on.

***********

At some point, ammunition became a problem. Only so many rounds can be fired within a single minute before logistics introduces itself in the most annoying fashion applicable. Our saving grace is the allowance of focus fire as a product of our primary combat environment being that of underground tunnels and urban areas.

Our stipend of resources is nearly exhausted for repairs needed upon the landship itself, and we are left with barely enough material for our fabricators to fabricate our munitions.

In some fronts of expansion, our forces have been resorting to charging the mutated creatures with nothing but shovel, knife, and axe in hand. A brave act, if not for how nearly everything in this world surpasses us in the capability of physical strength.

How fitting.

Humanity, at its emergence, was the weakest of species. It bore not the teeth or claws of predators, not the feathered wings of avians, nor the gills and tails of aquatics. Yet, humanity still conquered the world for one factor - intelligence.

Though, even I can admit that the metaphor would be much more meaningful and impactful if one of our forces wasn't just tossed like a ragdoll by a fucking metal crab the size of one of our tanks.

"Engage the Gauss Rifles!"

No response. Incompetents, the lot of the- oh. They're all dead.

Do I have to do everything myself? Well. It's looking at me. My thoughts align with my speech in sync as the arthropod shut one of its pincers with a mighty clamp.

"Fuck."

***********

Amid the chaos, my heart racing, I immediately backpedal away from the rocky crustacean, its sudden movement making me second-guess my safety. But as if it can read my thoughts, the beast skitters towards me with deceptive speed, its claws clacking against the ground like nails on a chalkboard.

I narrowly dodge the crab's swinging claw, feeling the shockwave of the blow travel up my spine and causing a shiver to run down my back. With quick reflexes, I unsheathe one of my blades and thrust it into the shell of the creature. With a swift pull, the blade comes free, but my leg explodes with pain.

The crab lets out a series of clicking sounds, thrashing around in a frenzy as it tries to dislodge the blade from its shell. The hallway becomes a battleground as the creature runs rampant, ramming into everything in its path. Grey walls are scraped and chipped, and organic crystal cuts into the walls, creating jagged lines that add to the chaos. Lights shatter, and doors are either dented or destroyed.

I know I need to retreat, but as I attempt to move, my leg gives out from under me, and I find myself on the ground, unable to move. My eyes flick down to my leg, which is now covered in crimson-red splotches, pierced by jagged shards of concrete. Pain shoots through my entire body, making it difficult to focus on anything else.

In the next moment, I realize I don't know where the creature is, and panic starts to set in. Suddenly, blinding white pain erupts from my back, and before I can even process what's happening, my body is airborne. I soar through the air for what feels like an eternity, my spine impacting the wall of the hallway with a sickening squish. My head connects next, and I'm left barely able to move, every nerve in my body screaming with pain.

The crab approaches my prone body, growing ever closer. Within a few seconds, I can once again hear how it grates its claws, and how its pincers punch small holes into the floor whilst creating a crackling noise.

As this happens, my vision blurs and I can feel a dizzying sensation in my head. The noise of the cracks soon overtakes that of the clacks, and my senses are overwhelmed by a series of bright flashes of light. A cacophony of loud discharges erupts from somewhere behind me, the sound muffled to me as if my head's embedded within a fluffy white pillow.

The situation is becoming more and more confusing, and I can hear shouting, though the words are indiscernible. My body is being compressed and interacting with something, but I am too numb to make sense of what is happening.

As my vision dims evermore so, and through the blurry finale of my vision, the crab slowly retreats into the now darkened hallway. Its movements become slower and more deliberate as if it has accomplished its mission. Disappearing entirely from my faulty vision, I realize that I am alone and helpless, with my sight fading to black.