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As Caelon leaped down, he obliterated dozens of infector pods converging on his position. Frankly, that was repugnant. Every piece of flood biomass Caelon dismantled would spawn even more infector pods. Unlike some of the epic battles in the distant future, the Flood in this era seemed to arise directly from the corrupted biomass itself. As long as the infected mass remains, flood forms can appear as they please. You'd need to incinerate the entire mass to be certain. Not only that, but the flood's supercell here was more than sufficient for them to self-replicate from the space, turning most of the area into a dense fog obscured by their wretched remnants.
When Caelon landed, he encountered a myriad of other infected species, humans were scarcely found in these parts. Most of the infected victims here didn't provide the Flood with any substantial biological advantage upon infection. Not that their lives were insignificant, but as long as they weren't active warrior servants or classes, they posed little threat. The warriors' armour was what truly concerned Caelon, after all, the highest class of armour was tier 18, while tier 12 armour was the norm for warriors. With tier 12 armour, one could confidently take on any type 6 adversary and even emerge victorious after prolonged combat against type 5 foes, at least according to this era's power scaling. Their individual combat prowess was something Caelon wished to avoid right now.
The scene around was a haunting landscape of decaying Flood mass mingling with jagged rock and twisted metal.
The atmosphere felt heavy and oppressive, as if Caelon were submerged underwater; the HUD displayed data confirming the density of the Flood gas enveloping the space. Any modern human attempting to traverse this terrain would find themselves swimming through the viscous air, suffocated by the noxious atmosphere.
Among the infected, Caelon recognized the Thryxals, Khaeli-shuuns, Mon Calamari, and Salarians, their forms unchanged despite the passage of time.
This flood-infected place had altered them into mere vessels of biomass for the Flood, and even if survivors existed, Caelon couldn't afford to waste precious time searching for them. His goal of locating the proto-gravemind weighed on his mind. The faster he finds it, the quicker he'll progress in the vow renewal.
A thunderous roar erupted from the depths of the Flood, reverberating violently through the oppressive air like a storm warning. "ROARRRRRRRRRRRRR!" The cries of the pure forms, twisted and monstrous counterparts, pierced the stillness, announcing the approach of a small yet relentless surge of combatants, numbering in the dozens, racing towards Caelon.
"You'll need dozens more to make me sweat!" Caelon remarked at the roars. He went for the nearest combat form and blew a hole through its chest before it could take another step towards him.
He blitzed toward the other four combat forms beside his first victim, each movement precise and calculated. As he fought, he mentally reviewed tactical methods for engaging higher-tiered forms if they entered the fray. He understood all too well that his origins in that nebula cloud had inadvertently strengthened the Flood, alongside other species, notably humans and the Forerunners.
In this universe, however, those iterations weren't shielded by plot armour! It crafted a double-edged sword for Caelon. The absence of predetermined outcomes shattered the safety net usually woven into the fabric of others destinies, making every encounter fraught with peril. Yet, that uncertainty also promised unparalleled opportunities for growth and profound challenges.
"HelPpa m—" one of the infected forms began to plead, its voice a twisted echo meant to unnerve. Before it could utter another sound, Caelon executed a swift strike, severing its head from its body with a clean motion.
"So they can imitate speech to unnerve opponents in battle. I wonder what other insidious uses they have for this ability," he mused as he incinerated the surrounding biomass, ensuring it wouldn't reform behind him.
Around him, ripples danced through space as Caelon's senses heightened.
The architecture of the mining outpost around him was a far cry from its former glory. Once-bright structures now lay twisted and broken, the normal aesthetic swallowed by decay and despair. Like an illusion unravelling, the true nature of the surroundings revealed itself to Caelon, stripped of any remaining charm.
The signs of struggle were vivid. Echoes of conflict swirled in the air as Caelon tapped into his abilities, catching glimpses of the Flood's brutal and strategic takeover of this operation. They had come with overwhelming numbers, surged forward with ruthless efficiency, and then retreated, leaving behind a proto-gravemind to monitor the solar system—a sinister remnant of their desolation.
"UmU, that explains some inconsistencies. The Flood came here by force, afterward, they likely focused on the Forthencho assault. Feels like a last-minute call," Caelon discerned, his thoughts racing.
He understood now that the primordial felt the very presence of his power being exerted upon this solar system, a revelation that confirmed his suspicions. Luckily, its main efforts were laid at the front lines of the campaign.
Pressing onward, he directed his steps toward the entrance, his resolve solidifying into an intent to experiment with the remnants of the proto-gravemind.
"I wonder how... never mind, that's a full sight to behold." As Caelon approached the entrance, he struggled to comprehend the grotesque landscape unfolding before him. It resembled a gruesome forest of mutilated corpses and decay, a gory spectacle to outsiders, but a conundrum for him.
As he inched closer to the entrance, a low, ominous rumbling emanated from the ground beneath him, mingling with the menacing roars of larger Flood forms approaching quickly to challenge him. Reacting in an instant, he drew an A1-Binary Rifle from his pocket space, the weapon shimmering with latent energy.
The rifle was capable of firing concentrated bursts of light. That not only penetrated through but also exploded on impact, showering the target in searing plasma. But just as the weapon materialized in his grasp, a colossal force seized Caelon's entire upper body. Luckily, Caelon managed to turn his head just in time.
"Motherfuc—"
Before he could complete his curse, he saw a hulking Juggernaut, its massive frame dwarfing the other Flood spawn and the twisted terrain, a titan of horror that loomed before him.
"Alright, since when are they able to conceal their presence?"
Unleashing his hard light blade from his gauntlet, he managed to free his right side, but the relief was short-lived. With a brutal slam, the Juggernaut drove him into the ground, following through with a titanic throw that sent him sprawling several yards away from the entrance.
Caelon didn't get the chance to finish cursing as the hulking 15-meter Juggernaut hurled him across the factory yard once more, metal and concrete bending and crumbling beneath Caelon's impact. His weapon slipped from his grasp, landing a good bit away from his position.
Huh, that's strange…
"So the higher the concentration of metaphysics in a region, the more formidable the efficacy of its passives. That definitely explains the comical difficulties faced by militia and regular military personnel," he contemplated while glancing at the morbid forest of biomass. Observing how he had inexplicably lost his weapon mid-movement was an oddity that shouldn't have occurred at all.
From this interaction, Caelon concluded that the Flood itself possessed a passive perk of sorts, deriving from a much higher power. One thing was certain for him, the more overall energy the Primordial extended toward its creations, the stronger the effects became.
"Now I hope it's not some ridiculous gag power," he muttered quietly, striving to decipher the nature of this newfound threat. As he concentrated, his perception sharpened dramatically, and the chaotic movements around him slowed, allowing him to discern the Juggernaut's muscles and tissue quivering with latent energy from a distance.
He pulled himself from the crater, feeling the ground erupt beneath him as he pressed forward. The Juggernaut was far from idle, its speed betrayed its massive size. It lunged with terrifying ferocity to intercept him mid-dash, but Caelon predicted its move, skillfully exploiting the creature's own momentum to slip past its guard and retrieve his A1-Binary Rifle.
By the time the Juggernaut registered his movements, it swung its colossal arm with lethal intent, but its reaction time was no match for Caelon's agility. He unleashed a series of rapid shots to its face with his rifle, each blast bursting like a miniature sun against its armour.
Given the Juggernaut's immense size and bulk, the blasts barely savaged its defences, barely more than an irritation to the monster. Only fury ignited within it, intensifying its rage toward Caelon. For Caelon, his priority shifted urgently to gaining distance, searching for an opportunity to summon more formidable weaponry—anything capable of breaching the Juggernaut's formidable defences.
"Conner, what's your ETA with that drive?" Caelon called out urgently, his senses heightened as he noticed the Juggernaut signalling for reinforcements. He knew that soon, the entire Flood force would converge on his position.
"Sir, you sound like you could use some refreshments. Should I invi…" Conner began to ramble on, intent on wasting valuable time. Luckily, Caelon wasn't in the mood to feel like an ant beneath a boot right now, especially not with such a colossal nuisance looming before him.
Without waiting for the Juggernaut to respond, he distanced himself swiftly, waves upon waves of Flood entities surging toward him. Some even manifested physically, swirling forth into existence due to the dense concentration of Flood supercells gathering in the air around him.
"Conner, please don't make me force you to listen to brain-rotting content across 20 different sectors of space—" Caelon started, his voice strained, nearly drowned out by the chaotic symphony of destruction unfolding around him. Almost as if in response to Caelon's protest, the Juggernaut burst forth, a colossal entity of brute force and malice, its massive footfalls creating tremors in the ground beneath Caelon. It charged at breakneck speed, smashing through smaller Flood forms, leaving a swathe of obliteration in its wake, all while accelerating toward my vulnerable position with lethal intent.
"I'm starting to realize why you're always alone, sir," Conner interjected, his tone unnervingly chipper as he observed Caelon's plight.
"You always resort to incivility toward others when you're in an uncomfortable situation." His words dripped with an unsettling blend of mockery and cheer, punctuated by an exaggerated "UmU" sound that acknowledged the actual severity of my predicament.
Meanwhile, every second was ticking away as I struggled to manifest more powerful Area of Effect (AOE) weapons. The overwhelming flood of grotesque, writhing entities made that effort seem futile.
The Flood's pure forms were gnawing incessantly on Caelon's helmet and other sections of his body, making him feel like a ragdoll being tossed around. Caelon couldn't muster the words to argue or inform Conner of his dire predicament. The suit's internal structure displayed signs of severe fractures and stress. The helmet's HUD illuminated with reddish markings in critical areas of his armour. If this continued, he'd would soon have to worry about spores breaching the gaps and fractures within the armour.
"You know, sir, if maybe you had some class pathway, then perhaps Lum—" Conner continued, completely oblivious to the gravity of the situation, his words a maddening distraction.
"CONNER! I nee—oof! You shut up and fire all weapons at my position RIGHT now!" Caelon yelled, regretting every moment spent updating his AI with a troll persona. He couldn't help but imagine how a more competent, formal type of Conner could have been.
As Caelon wrestled against the overwhelming tide of Flood combat forms, their putrid bodies dragging him deeper into the chaos, Caelon suddenly felt the terrifying grip of the Juggernaut enveloping him. Its gaping maw loomed ominously, a dark abyss promising agonizing pain.
'That Primordial really had it out for me!'
"Sir, the first wave was launched. Two seconds till inbound," Conner announced with an unnatural brightness, his voice almost sing-song, while Caelon pondered how someone could interpret his situation as something to celebrate. It was as if Conner were watching a thrilling sport, and Caelon was the unwilling participant in a deadly game.
'You fancy derogatory mouthpiece!'
In the next heartbeat, He caught sight of a torrent of shimmering hard light energy and cascading volleys of RT-2 Ripper blasts hurtling toward His position, a dazzling display against the backdrop of chaos around him.
The RT-2 Ripper was marketed as a high-end industrial breaching platform, though its performance placed it dangerously close to military hardware classifications.
Unlike dedicated military variants, the civilian-grade Ripper sacrificed large-scale area devastation for concentrated destructive efficiency. Rather than generating a widespread detonation, its compression core focused the majority of its output into a localized tidal compression event followed by severe metric distortion at the point of impact.
Military-grade systems were significantly more destructive, capable of sustaining wider destruction. The RT-2 lacked that level of area denial and raw output, but in exchange it was cheaper, more efficient, and easier to operate in industrial environments.
'This is going to hurt!'
Caelon, knowing he had no other option, warped himself to a safer distance. Mangled strands of Flood biomass still clung to the armour plating.
With only seconds before impact, he projected a shield from the suit and reinforced it with his own energy reserves. It would not survive the blast for long — only long enough to transport him into the armour's subspace layer, where the tidal compression and metric distortion were less severe than in real space.
Then the world ruptured.
The initial tidal collapse folded the facility inward. Flood biomass near the entrance was dragged screaming toward the epicentre, compressed into a spindle no larger than a golf ball. Corridors stretched across impossible angles as spacetime warped around the blast radius. To any observer, the horizon itself would have appeared distorted — elongated like molten glass pulled across the void.
Then came the metric shear.
Matter caught near the epicentre bent inward under impossible gravitational gradients. Metal, stone, flesh — all of it compressed beyond atomic structure. The distortion crushed everything into a hyper-dense state before violently converting the trapped mass into raw energy.
A fraction of a second later, the containment failed.
The release expanded outward in a blinding shockwave, a newborn star erupting inside the asteroid facility.
Caelon struggled to maintain his position as monstrous energies erupted around him, washing over him like a tidal wave and reducing his shields to critical levels.
"Where does Conner find these things?" Cealon thought, feeling exasperated.
He fought against the onslaught for a while, until the chaotic energies finally subsided. It was over; the entrance was exposed, revealing the most grotesque blob of flesh imaginable. Entrails and other forms of biomass encircled the rock and metal within.
"One ugly motherfucker. Only your creator could love you, that's for sure," Cealon muttered, unsettled by the ghastly sight. He received echoes from the hivemind, all linked to those who had made this journey before him.
Getting rid of this blob was essential.
"All this work, just to bleach my eyes afterward!" he thought.
Suddenly, a nagging feeling crept in; something wasn't adding up.
"Sir, when will you take cover?" Conner's voice crackled through the comms.
"Take cover for wh—" Cealon paused, realization dawning on him.
Oh. That was only volley one.
Caelon observed the RT-1 Blast from his peripheral vision, and in a sudden turn of events, he was propelled out of the facility and into the emptiness of space.
By the time he opened his eyes, he was floating in the emptiness of space. The destruction happening below was a stark contrast to his current environment. He could no longer see the ethereal aura of the proto-gravemind.
Suddenly, he felt an object loom over him. He turned to see a ship opening its bay doors, scooping him into the hangar.
"The mission was a success!" Conner chirped happily.
"Yeah, I guess it could've gone smoother, but hey, I can't complain. I've got my Vow ready,"
Caelon replied excitedly. Now, he could progress his own power and turn this skill in for another growth-based power from the Terra database.
"I could go for curatio at Lum's place down the block. Could you please contact her and ask if she has any leftover discount tags or coupons?" Caelon asked with interest.
"Regardless, sir, you still need to head over to the capital of the empire for the next task you set for yourself," Conner replied, emphasizing the importance of the matter.
"Yeah, I know, but the way people feel remorse and grief here is fundamentally different from how people behave eons later," Caelon responded, exhausted.
"She's a warrior class, which means she's essentially socially inactive unless it's related to combat or something similar. Besides, she has other priorities. Don't tell me you're planning to have a TED talk with every single one of your side friends," Conner retorted, his programming functioning as expected.
Caelon shook his head. "I wouldn't exactly call it a TED talk, but perhaps wisdom and guidance for a friend."
"Ah, I see. An offer of an entourage of sorts."
Conner shook his head and began heading to the cockpit. They were on a different ship now, one built for combat and speed. The name of the ship was LCF-1 Striker. Meanwhile, Caelon started making his way to the star road to return to Erde-Tyrene.
As they approached the planet, he saw its defense platforms in use, with rows and rows of planetary cannons pointed at itself and the planet's shield being activated, trapping every unlucky soul inside the barrier.
"Hot dang, what did we miss?" Conner exclaimed, a playful edge in his response. Caelon, however, wore a weary expression, his brow furrowing as he scanned the frantic messages flooding his communications device. Desperate cries echoed through the speaker, voices trembling with panic as they spoke of the looming flood that threatened their safety.
With the Vow dissolved, the protective grip that had once locked the solar system in a stable quantum state now lay shattered, allowing the intricate and dangerous chess pieces left behind by the Primordial to begin their relentless advance. Despite the chaos, there was a sliver of reassurance that the governing body tasked with overseeing the planets had proven itself capable, moving swiftly to address the flood containment efforts.
"Sir, you're being hailed too. You should respond," Conner informed Caelon, who was busy interacting with the AI on the military side, trying to prove that he was no threat and didn't have the logic plague.
"This is Striker, loud and clear, over," Caelon replied.
"Striker, this is Omega-1. Please head to the focal point of the detention zone for evaluation."
Caelon prayed that his IP tag on the network remained active, hoping he could bypass this hurdle.
"Roger that, Omega-1. However, I must request that you contact Luminastra and inform her that Caelon-Chaoix-Vireal requests assistance."
At that moment, Caelon realized that a massive ship had decloaked and entered real space. This vessel, measuring 45 kilometers in length, made the Striker look like a mere speck of cosmic dust in comparison. Equipped with enormous cannons brimming with energy and ports housing powerful repulsors, the ship had a distinctly human design.
Suddenly, Caelon received a ping on the public network. Despite the traffic, he recognized the unique call sign of the sender.
"Yo, so how's your day?" Caelon asked in a childlike voice filled with sarcasm.
"Dock your ship in Hangar 2, Bay 13. We'll talk later." Avatine abruptly hung up.
"Wow, just wow. Why are females so difficult? She didn't even say hi," Caelon grumbled, feeling as if he had done something wrong.
The ship ground to a halt as a gravity tractor lock engaged and guided it into the bay.
"Wouldn't even let me pilot myself up there, huh?" Caelon mumbled under his breath.
As soon as he came within range of the bay, he noticed armaments locked onto his position. He saw repulsors and drones flying by, actively scanning his ship to ensure it wasn't contaminated beyond a certain threshold.
The vessel reverberated as it docked in Bay 13, its mechanical locks intertwining with the lower part of the ship to secure it. Guards stood outside, with occasional blue flickers appearing and disappearing, indicating that several warriors were actively warping around to maintain order.
The ramp opened, and Caelon stepped out of the ship onto the hangar's cold metallic floor, he retracted his helm to show his face. His small, petite figure was a stark contrast to the giants around him. Some of them exchanged glances, while others lowered their guard even further. A tick mark appeared on Caelon's forehead, showing his annoyance at their gestures.
"I'm guessing I'm good to go? Since, well, no one shot, right?" Caelon asked, intrigued.
The warrior servants merely nodded their heads in agreement. Their squad leader instructed Caelon to wait in his room—the same room he technically rented for several credits each cycle.
After being checked, he gathered everything of value on his way to his room. Most of it was miscellaneous items, but the most important thing he made sure to take was food. He wanted to leave Conner behind, but Conner insisted on coming along. Reluctantly, Caelon took him and tossed him into his storage space.
After arriving in the room, he quickly scanned it and concluded that not much had changed. Usually, maintenance cleaner AIs handle the cleaning of quarters reserved for people who rent or buy a stake. Caelon preferred not to have any organic or inorganic beings around his belongings.
The room was relatively medium-sized—not quite as large as the lab or his personal room, but big enough to be functional.
"Huh, I should check in with Terra. Hopefully, she'll give me something I can actually use, not just a one-time overpowered powerspike."
Caelon grumbled as he felt eager to start his journey across the omniverse. However, he knew he needed to build a strong foundation and eliminate any obstacles as they appeared.
Determined, Caelon decided to reach out to Terra and expand his arsenal.
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END of chapter
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