Approximately one hundred and forty years after the Khaerix began their systematic extermination of humanity, the final stronghold on the Second Continent fell.
What had once been humanity's greatest refuge—its last bastion of industry, governance, and hope beyond the primary landmass—collapsed in a single, cataclysmic day. Millions of lives were erased in the span of hours. Streets that once echoed with conversation, laughter, and the steady hum of transport now burned beneath an alien sky. Faced with absolute annihilation, the remaining human government made a choice history would never forgive nor forget: they ordered a full abandonment of the continent.
It was not a decision made lightly. To stay meant extinction. To leave meant condemning those who could not escape in time. Preservation of their remaining forces became the sole objective. Humanity retreated—not because it wished to, but because it had no other option.
The city of Gregon was among those left behind.
…
"Sis… are you alright?"
The trembling voice barely reached her ears.
Six-year-old Ethan strained as he lifted a heavy plank of charred wood, his small arms shaking violently under the effort. Smoke clung to his clothes, his hair matted with ash and dust. He squinted through the haze, extending his free hand toward the figure trapped beneath the debris.
Sylvia coughed harshly as she grasped his hand. Her throat burned with every breath, and when she finally managed to push herself upright, pain flared through her body like lightning. She took one step. Then another.
Her legs buckled.
"Yeah… thanks to you," she forced out, her voice cracking despite her attempt at reassurance. She tried to smile, but the expression died halfway as she collapsed again, her palms scraping against shattered stone.
'What… in the world happened?'
The question echoed uselessly in her mind as her vision cleared.
Gregon—the city she had grown up in, the city she had loved—no longer existed.
What remained was something far worse than ruin.
Buildings lay twisted and half-melted, as if reality itself had been torn apart and reassembled incorrectly. Fires burned without fuel, casting sickly green and crimson light across shattered streets. In the distance, monstrous silhouettes prowled freely—inhumane creatures with warped limbs and glistening exoskeletons, tearing through what little structure remained. Each movement they made reduced homes, towers, and roads into drifting dust.
This was not a battlefield.
It was a slaughterhouse.
"Hey… sis…"
Ethan's shaking voice pulled her back from the brink. She turned just in time to see him pointing toward a scorched pile of rubble nearby. Even through the ash and broken stone, she recognized it instantly.
The remains of their home.
No—worse.
Her knees locked as understanding set in.
'Mom… Dad… why?'
Her thoughts stalled, unable to process what her eyes were telling her. The world felt distant, muffled, as though she were watching someone else's nightmare. She stood there, unmoving, mentally paralyzed.
Then the explosion hit.
The shockwave tore through the air, throwing her off her feet. She didn't realize she was moving until her arms closed around Ethan, pulling him tightly against her chest as they tumbled across the ground.
THUD!
Her back slammed into stone, knocking the breath from her lungs. Pain screamed through her bones, but she barely registered it. Her only thought—her only fear—was whether she had protected him properly.
She forced herself to look down.
Ethan's face was pale, streaked with dirt and tears, his eyes wide with terror and despair. But he was breathing.
He was alive.
'Thank God. I… don't think I can afford to lose anything today.'
She tightened her grip around him, pushing herself upright despite the agony screaming through her muscles. Step by step, dragging both of them forward, she fled from the corpse of the city they once called home.
Behind them, Gregon burned.
"Mom… Dad…"
Ethan's voice was hollow, as if the words themselves had lost meaning. Sylvia swallowed hard. She couldn't even begin to blame him.
'In fact… I'm the weird one for still being able to think right now.'
Grief would come later—if they survived long enough to feel it.
"Ethan," she said, forcing strength into her voice, "we have to go."
She broke into a run, pulling him along as smoke, fire, and screams followed them into the distance.
…
Far above the ruined city, a lone figure stood overlooking the devastation.
"We lost… huh."
Jonas' words were barely audible over the roar of destruction below. His armor was battered, scorched in dozens of places, and his breathing was labored. Still, he stood tall, eyes fixed on the collapsing skyline.
He had chosen this.
In order to ensure as many people as possible were able to retreat, Jonas had willingly remained behind, forming the final line of defense. He fought without rest, without retreat, buying seconds and minutes with blood and steel.
It still hadn't been enough.
Even now, he could hear them—the screams of civilians he failed to save, echoing endlessly in his mind.
'And I too don't have long to live.'
The terraforming had already begun. The Khaerix had altered the land itself, reshaping the environment to suit their biology. The air burned his lungs with every breath, growing thinner, heavier, wrong.
Even if he did manage to save them, where would they go?
'Without a place to retreat to, all I'd be giving them is a longer and more painful death.'
"But I won't give up," he said quietly. "Not until the very end."
His fingers brushed against the pendant hanging from his neck, worn smooth from years of use. With a final breath, he leapt into his Kairos, the massive combat frame roaring to life beneath him, and descended into the slaughter field below.
…
"Sis."
Ethan's voice echoed softly within the cave.
Sylvia lay on her back, eyes closed, her face unnaturally still. To anyone else, she might have looked like she was simply resting. Ethan knew better.
He had only come to after they reached a certain distance from the city. Somehow, his sister had dragged him beyond Gregon's reach and into the mountains. The cave they sheltered in barely protected them from the shifting winds.
The moment they arrived, Sylvia collapsed, claiming she wanted to take a quick nap.
Her breathing told Ethan a different story.
"What is it?" she replied weakly when he stood, her voice drowsy and distant.
He felt it now too—the air was changing, becoming different from the one they knew.
'Terraforming. I heard they teach it when you enter second grade.'
Just a few days ago, the two of them had entered the same class. Ethan had been overjoyed to spend more time with his sister.
Now, that world was gone.
'No. This is the time to be strong. Just like how your sister was for you when you needed it the most.'
He tapped his cheeks with his palms, forcing himself to focus.
"I'm going to find something for us to eat," he said. "Wait a little."
He heard her trying to say something, but not finding food only guaranteed their death.
'I… don't want to see anyone die.'
'Not today.'
….
"No survivors?"
Jonas exhaled as his arkon blade cut cleanly through a Destroyer-class Khaerix, the alien collapsing into ash at his feet.
"I guess that was to be expected. Even I'm having a hard time breathing here."
He cast a glance at his Kairos—ruined, sparking, barely functional—and then at the endless horde surging toward him.
"…Guess I should see if I can escape."
His gaze softened as he rested a hand against the machine.
"Hey, partner," he murmured, a pained smile forming on his lips.
"Explode for me."