* Prologue

> There is no pure coincidence, Hanister.

  The tangerine light from the sun shone upon the wasteland of Rexington Region at dusk, painting the neighboring area, the Death Rim, with a few stokes of bleakness. The sun was like a burning orb, slowly tumbled down as if it had lost all its power, dipping into the murky skyline. However, as soon as the last hint of light disappeared, another spot of brightness appeared in the neighboring sky. It was a ball with fire engulfing it, a rock with blazing flame.

An actual ball of fire.

  The fireball dashed across the sky, through thin clouds, headed straight towards the Rexington Region. After a brief moment, another spot of light appeared after it (or perhaps it was more the upper back), following close behind. Two bright dots raced across the misty night sky, as if they were in some sort of weird chasing game.

  The larger one landed first, accompanied by a deafening sound, a gigantic dent was formed. Soon later, the other one followed, landed close to where the fire ball was. After the dust had cleared out, what was left stuck between the sediments was a dropod. The cold-steel-contructed pod had a guiding light on top which started flickering, illuminated its shell and the ground around it.

  Immediately, the hatch opened with a loud bang, and out walked a man in an eccentric outfit. He was wearing a mask, with a metal container that looked like a gas tank on his back. His body was covered with pieces of shell-like black fragments. A soft pipe extended from the white metal container, connected to the mask on the man's face. He scanned at his surroundings, then appraoched the direction of where the fire ball landed.

  The noise that he made when he was breathing came through his mask, it was deep and follwed a certain pattern. It was relatively loud and clear as he was pratically in the middle of nowhere. Yet it was soon drowned out by a burning, crackling noise.

  The man stood still beside the huge dent, he then stared at where the noise was coming from. An egg-shaped rock lied there in peace, it was at least three stories tall. The color was rather similar to the shells on the man, pure obsidian black, with some spots gleamed an eerie red due to the high temperature.

  The area in the dent was charred, the ember scattered around continued to crackle. There even were some blazes smoldering sporadically on the giant rock. That was the aftermath of the violent friction it had with the atmosphere.

  Wisps of smoke drifted towards the man in the dark, but he couldn't smell it. He inhaled slowly, changing his breathing pattern. He knew for certain that the high temperature wouldn't hurt 'them.' The appearance of the rock wasn't dark because of the burning, it was its original color.

  One by one, the fragaments on the man started vibrating to the rhythm of his breathing, like a swarm of bees fluttering their wings in sync. Right after, all fragments dispersed. They stayed mid-air for a quick moment, then all hurtled behind the man. They lined up evenly next to the sides of the metal container, revealing what was originally underneath it, a red-and-white skin-tight suit.

  The man shifted a little in his tight clothing, then stared blankly into the massive void in front of him. The giant rock rattled a little, as if it's trying to respond to him. The ground beneath the man started shaking vigorously, it was powerful to the point that you could hear the land cracking. He didn't back down though. Instead, he continued watching as the rock cracked open, deformed and transformed into another shape. The man took a quick glance at the night sky above him. The night had just begun, but the war would soon be over.

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  Tens of minutes later, a gyroplane approached the wasteland of Rexington, headed straight for the flickering glow on the ground. It circled the spot for a while, until its two rotors started to tilt upwards and rotate in order to slow the plane down. The plane then hovered above the ground, slowly inching closer and closer. At last, it extended the landing gear, touched down near the light spot.

  Soon after the gyroplane had landed, a man dressed in grey uniform with a hand case in one hand came out of the passenger's seat. He forged forward against the heavy winds, towards the still-flickering dropod.

  "Major!" He glanced at the empty pod then hollered once more. "Major Cavill!"

  "You're late!" A resounding voice called out from the other side of the darkness.

  The man from the gyroplane followed the voice, until a ball of shadow came into view. That was a dreadful, monster-like figure. In the middle of the creature was a wide open mouth full of sharp teeth that could hurt one just by slightly touching. A couple of tentacles protruded along the shape of the mouth, drooping to the ground beneath it. There were also some big pieces of 'shells' on the ground, similar to flaky rocks.

  The man wasn't quite frightened by the scene in front of him. Undoubtedly, the 'thing' is already dead. However, the person who killed it was still alive, sitting unbothered on its back.

  "You're late, Justin." The man sitting on the creature's back took his mask off, approached him, and said. He instantly put the mask back right after he finished the sentence, then straightened his back. After, the two piles of black substance on his back started moving, breaking up into multiple pieces of fragments. The fragments, however, did not wrap around his body. Instead, they dashed to his feet, forming a hovering staircase in front of him. He took a gentle step, slowly walked down from the creature's body, unruffled.

  Justin was stuck to where he was, watching intensely at the man wearing tight clothing approach. The colors of the clothing pieces were still fairly vibrant, even more so compared to how they were before. There were thick, foul-smelling juice and scraps stuck on the clothes. The awful odor assaulted the nostrils, able to suffocate anyone who takes a small sniff.

  Justin was unperturbed.

  He stood straighter rather than backing up. At the instant the man stopped, Justin put his feet together and raised his hand in salute.

  "Major Cavill." He greeted in a sprightly tone. "We're here to escort you back."

  "Save it, Justin." The man took off his mask after stepping back on land.

  "There's no one else here." He answered with a rather fatigued expression.

  "Major, we believe that you've broken your own record, again."

  The man in tight clothing shook his head. "This one's a lot smaller, it's not even ten meters." He put the mask back on, then gathered the fragments back onto his back.

  "Major." Justin opened the hand case. Aside from a couple pieces of designed partitions, there was nothing else inside. The man eyed the hand case, heavy breathing noise emitting from his mask. The black fragments started fluttering again, straight into the hand case.

  "Huff..." The owner of the fragments dropped the mask once again, exhaling deeply.

  Justin stared at the neatly-arrayed fragments in the case for a brief second, before shutting it tightly. "Right amount, Major." He said, "You haven't replaced the Shelling Bubble for three months already."

  "As long as the attacking angle's precise, it won't damage the shells easily. Besides, I am getting the hang of this one."

  The man with the case nodded. "Should I leave a beacon?"

  "No need. The landing spot this time was fairly close to the estimated spot. They should be able to find it." The man with his mask off addressed, he still had the metal container attached to his back.

  "Take me back. I still have an interview tomorrow morning." The moment he finished his sentence, he started towards the gyroplane that landed not far.

  Justin lifted his hand case without a word, followed close after the leaving man. He left the whole mess behind him for the savage night.