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Planetouched
Chapter 1: O darkness my old friend.

Chapter 1: O darkness my old friend.

You woke up and it's pitch black.

Your mere consciousness struggles to awaken itself. Tendrils of thought try to ascertain what is actually going on.

Your very last thought was that you died.

But again darkness. The void embraces you.

....---....

Again your mind's eye tries to wake you up.

"Wake up" as you hear a disembodied voice enter crevice of your mind. As if it is urging you on.

But to no avail.

You don't know how long it has been. You have already lost count. You are spiralling ever deeper.

It seems you are losing yourself. Not that you seem to care.

Although it sounds dreary. There is a purpose. Albeit of a more primordial thought.

Flashes of scenes crosses your mind. It is of not your own. It bombards your very consciousness. It is as if you are trying relive how the elements began in the beginnings of time.

But alas your comprehension is too low. Maybe later. When you are a lot smarter. Maybe.

If others find out of this great 'lucky chance' they will surely curse you for your lack of talent being wasted on you.

This are memories of the primal shift. As the elemental forces interact, dissolve, destruct, create, churn and begun a new again.

Some will claim this as the very source laws of the Great Dao itself. Whilst others will proclaim the power of spoken mutterings of the heavenlies, due to their spoken word.

Just as you were about to gain a sliver of enlightenment, a jarring whirring noice assault your auditory senses.

It wakes you out of your slumber.

As the resounding alarm goes off, you are gifted at least with a last scene.

It is the synergy between the primal earth and of primal air. Although of polar opposites. It is a constant of balance of creation and destruction. The erosion and formation of earth as it terraforms itself with the brutality and gentleness of the wind.

Everything goes back to one.

Your eye flickers and dilates as you try to perceive this weird and unwarranted notion.

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Flashes of light and whirring noises jolts you awake.

You seem to recall a need to breathe. Like it is meant to be important. A vestigial memory of your past life that you find hard to recall.

As you scan yourself. You find yourself within a chrysalis pool of unknown clear liquids. Floating through a bunch of wires.

A mere husk.

You don't know why but it reminds of how the monsters you were meant to fight in the past life were created and melded for war and destruction.

But you died anyway.

"Was it worth it?", you asked yourself.

...No... But you did it anyway. All so you can buy time for your comrades you have trained with. Bought with your life as a price tag.

Apparently you cared.

But that is not important right now. You recall more memories of your past.

Something called genetics and engineering. Something you were once so proud of.

Whatever liquid is connected to you, you used it to splice the blood towards your new-found body. Although you don't know what is held on the glass containers you brute force your way to health.

Driven by instinct, luck and an impending doom. You hurry.

You try to recall whatever memories you had in the past in regards to anatomy. Something about minimising antigens and trying to make sure your blood accept everything else that is foreign.

All this so you can race against time to reunite and regenerate your missing limbs and organs.

Somehow you know that you lack time. Something about the waning power that is powering your state of biogenesis. It will soon end.

As this was going on you recall this is not the first time you are stuck behind a glass tube.

Thick tubes and people in white lab coats monitoring your vital signs.

You recall that it was one of the only ways to revive you back after your recent tussle with one of the recent beast.

One of the reason being that it was one of those sadistic projects to get you accustomed in fighting them.

A project called Project: Reintegration.

It is one of those tasks they do to further awaken your psionic powers. All while you try to get mauled by a mastiff sized alien abomination hell bent to maul your face off.

They called it basic training 101. Sometimes known as a the hardening phase. Just like concrete.

They were spewing logic about it helping you become more cohesive as a group. Erasing your old self.

They did it to further dig out our potential. Psionic potential that is.

We were around sixteen back then.

You hear screeching and scratching in the distance.

With that lapse of thought you found a way to semi automate this healing process.

You sent out a telepathic pulse. Through that you find yourself in a medium sized room full of what looks like scientific equipment and cages in a state of disarray.

Some are still intact whilst others remain broken.

You let out another pulse to find out where the screeching was from. Your findings show you a trio of large sized black rodents cornering a giant silver spider.

With a screech, two of them go for a high and low attack combo from the right. While the other melds in the shadow and sneaks of to try flank it through the left.

The spider spews out a caustic spider web attack to the one on the middle catching it's left hind leg and applying acid damage.

The right rat goes for a swipe for one of the spider's legs, but it tries to deflect it. In retaliation, the rat slashes with its steel tipped tail. But misses.

Using this chance the left rat goes for a sneak attack and bites the back leg of the spider. Pretty much disabling it.

Although the spider was hurt it swerves and pierces it through the eye. With a coup de grace it bites the neck.

The blood sprays a blood fog.

Using this as cover the middle rat sneaks attack and eviscerate the thorax of the spider. But still got flung backwards slamming to one of the power crystals powering the life pod you are in.

With that you start to black out. Your meagre strength wanes, especially from that last psychic pulse draining you of energy.

The last thing you remember was your name. Something from the deep recesses of your mind.

Markus Imperius III. Oh how I hate that name.