My Ancestors…

I speak as one who carries memory in the blood of my ancestors. On E-arth, survival was never a choice, only a condition forced upon us. The planet was already dying when I was born into its shadow, its air hostile and its surface a furnace of ruin. Life here was unbearable by any measure of reason, yet we endured because endurance became our identity. What the galaxy calls monsters are simply those who adapted faster than despair could kill them.

My bloodline fought against all odds of survival. Long before my time, our Elder Leader from eons past stood against the Omni Imperium itself. He knew our numbers were few and our fleets weaker than whispers, yet he chose resistance over silence. That choice doomed us in the eyes of the stars, but it defined us forever. We did not bow quietly. We were made an example.

The response was absolute. We were glassed from orbit, our cities erased in sheets of fire, our oceans boiled into absence. The exoplanet’s crust cracked and flooded with molten lava, reshaping the world into a hellscape of burning stone. Only the strong survived those days. Strength was not courage or honor, but the raw refusal to die when everything demanded it.

Those of us who lived retreated beneath the surface of E-arth. We carved our homes into stone and shadow, learning to breathe poisoned air and drink bitter water. Many of us suffered and survived, carrying scars that never faded. Many did not, and they were given the gift of death, a mercy that released them from endless torment. We buried our dead deep, where even memory struggled to reach.

Centuries passed before we were visited again. At first, we believed salvation had come, that our fellow people had returned. No, our cousins. They saw us in our weakened state and extended help with careful smiles. They helped because we were useful. We possessed the solution to their problem, an ancient artifact and a source of energy born from E-arth itself.

They enslaved us for a century, draining our world and our bodies alike. But blood remembers what chains try to erase. We revolted. We fought their massive army with broken tools and unbroken will, rising from beneath the planet they thought had already killed us. We had survived fire, extinction, and abandonment. We would not survive obedience.

We turned E-arth itself into a weapon. The storms that flayed flesh, the quakes that shattered tunnels, the heat that boiled blood in seconds all became part of our war. We lured our cousins into unstable zones, into corridors where the planet shifted and screamed. We knew how to survive its moods. They did not. Still, we were losing. Their numbers were endless, their machines relentless, and every victory cost us ten lives in return. The stories say my bloodline held the line the longest, but even legends admit the world was never the same after that era of blood.

In our desperation, one of us crossed a threshold that should never have been touched. A power was unleashed that no mortal hand was meant to wield, something ancient and forbidden buried deep within E-arth. We prayed that The God would intervene, that this act would force salvation upon us. But I know now that our prayers fell on deaf ears after that day. Whatever answered us was not divine, and whatever was awakened could not be put back to sleep.

From the depths of our world, monsters rose. Not beasts born of nature, but things shaped by suffering, rage, and the planet’s poisoned soul. They tore into our cousins with merciless precision, ripping and shredding armor and flesh alike. The enemy broke beneath them, but the cost was unbearable. Our bloodline was stained with sin that day, a mark that would cling to us for generations. Victory came soaked in horror, and no one who witnessed it remained whole.

In the aftermath, nothing was pure. We lost nearly all of our own, not just in body but in spirit. Only the non-believers survived unchanged, and even that was a lie. They mutated into venomous, ferocious creatures, twisted reflections of what we once were. When you look into their eyes, you see it clearly. The soul is gone. Yet through ruin and damnation, we won our independence from our foes. We were free at last, standing alone on E-arth, victorious, damned, and forever changed.