The cold and unfeeling walls narrowed his senses, he feels alienated. Try as he might to feel comfortable again amongst those silver walls, felt like trying to regain the first time he kissed. His passion dried up as he worked on his subject, his speed never changed but the quality drastically lessened. He felt depressed and helpless, this is supposed to be a walk in the park. This is something he was supposed to be able to do in his sleep, but now he can't help but wonder just what happened. He used the same quality of materials just like a few years ago, but he can't replicate them anymore.

No one told him that his creations and inventions fell behind. Sometimes those old folks just praised him, especially Sczelour the master of faith. In his eyes the master of technology's works was a work of art. Only slightly inferior to those made by the great smiths of the Capital. But Ilkhaver can feel something weird about his work. They either jeered at him for failing them or he felt less satisfied with the final result.

No one can see nor tell him that his creations were even making remarks at him, but he can. The Fallen soldiers that formed the vanguard of their efforts were once his treasures. Seeing how he can turn an utterly dead body into a soldier that can operate weapons, use explosives, and even coordinate complex maneuvers using the dead or themselves made him feel electricity rise up his veins and freshen his mind. They were his work after all, his original work, he was the first to make them stand. From starting with decaying four legged animals to bipedal humanoid zenos that his people hunted, so few could truly stomach or even be capable of even going through the first step. But he, he even gave life to a twenty foot tall monster. And not just that, he also made very efficient munitions, cutting edge but affordable weapons and other extremely dangerous innovations.

But ever since his two hundreth year in this world, he felt different. Before, his creations all inspired him, now they all despise him. Ever since he lost his lover during the first skirmishes against the defective Dresters, he only prioritized one thing: Their end. For two centuries, he cared for nothing but to destroy them. Their victories during that time was truly pronounced, from enveloping nearly the entire continent with the easily replaceable Fallen Soldiers and the dead. The amount of resources he had at that time gave him a chance of even conquering the world should he even had the greenlight. For centuries the Dresters were holding on to their last walls and last bastions. The dead were just so easily replaceable, he could just pick a bullet ridden body and transform it into a Fallen Soldier or just continue its life as another of the undead. The rocks found in the entire continent were as hard as iron and easily found all around the continent. With the right tools, a pebble could give you at least three minie balls that are just as capable as full metal jacket round. The ground beneath Drestburg was filled with rare elements and even unknown ones that even now they can still be dig without much effort. But right now they almost meant nothing, because as of now he feels as helpless as ever.

His creations no longer pose a threat to their enemies. His efforts were truly empty, and without a chance of even redemption. Ever since he captured an enemy soldier just a decade ago he questioned himself and his beliefs.

" Was he really fighting for the right cause?", " Was the Talhavitan creed really that important to fulfill?", " Must perfection in every aspect be achieved that even a single mistake must be eliminated for the sake of perfection whether it be living or unliving.?". The words of that man made him drop his tools and nearly paralyzed his thoughts. These men were mere animals to him before. They were flawed, conceited and deviants. The Talhavitan creed was the very thing they despise the most despite it giving them the chance to even breathe. Those people who were now called Dresters as he heard prioritized Safety and the conservation of life no matter the cause. Whether it demands their lives or not, they will pay the price. They are not like the barbarous baseline humans who are prone to panic and disorder in times of distress. Talhavitans would never shy away from danger, they will face it like the Dresters. They will not cause disorder when danger comes near, neither will they prioritize their own safety when others need help. They are all prone to helping each other and would organize a force when in need.

Though the Dresters were truly inferior in all ways to the baseline Talhavitan, there is one thing that truly shook Ilkhaver to his bones. Those Dresters care about the people they treasure much more that the Talhavitan would find himself ashamed and lacking. They are notably less intelligent, weaker in muscle strength, lived shorter lives, lacking in reflexes compared to their progenitors, but wherever they lacked they made it up for commitment. He never found a strain from the multiple colonies of Talhavitas a strain far richer in commitment that he felt envy pierce his heart. The man he captured, left brainwashed and even kept watched beat him in something he always wanted to excel. He wanted to be the best in his generation, the finest of the techno masters of his species of humans. But no matter what he did, his commitment in his aspirations almost always fell short. He continually cut corners in his projects, he almost always shied away from his responsibilities both foreign and domestic just to waste his time with pleasure. All this he found out after meeting that man, that lone lieutenant. He didn't even bother finishing the brainwashing thoroughly. He made sure it was just enough to fulfill Trejan's plans, but not enough to truly shift the man's loyalty. For that man did something he envied the most: That man's love for his son and wife was far more precious than his love for his and his own inventions. He lost to someone centuries younger than him. And worse, that man was notably his inferior.

The very pressure of the revelations weighed him down ever since he found out. He was a master of technologies after all. He is meant to be the most intelligent of them all, its quite natural for him to contract Marie Antoinette's Syndrome and wrinkles quite quickly even before he reached seventy due to his inquisitive nature. But it accelarated after he met the man. All those thoughts of superiority were now gone.

His gait by the moment he arrived into the comm room of their domain looked oddly humanoid. He had a limp with his now replicated hundred year old leg, and a hunch that he never sought to correct for some reason. And as he approached Vaila, one of the last of the four remaining Talhavitan left in this location his eyes lost their shine as he gazed at this old living fossil of a woman. Three hundred years prior this woman was a goddess of beauty. Though they both came from the same template and looked like mere twins, he can't help but feel invigorated whenever she's near. And its not only him, she had many suitors. And one of them was someone he considered his biological brother. The very reason why he sought perfection in his part and creations was to compensate for his failure to gain her heart. He fell short, and he wanted to make up for it. But as of now, looking at this woman with her wrinkled face, near dead eyes and weary expression which made way for a weak smile when he came into view took the life out of him. The decades he spent with this woman only to see her like this with every passing day. His heart croaks, rejecting the tears to cry. Half of his face is metal anyway, only one eye can cry but the nerves were long gone that he can never truly shed tears anymore. And every day coming in this same room made him continually ask himself : " How far have I gone? How much have we done?". If only she was in Talhavitas she would've regained her beauty even with a face like this. But staring at her eyes like this truly made it even grimmer.

As always for the last couple centuries, the master of communications did her best to try and contact the outside world in her room. She spends days without end trying to use that old satellite to send word of their plight, but try as they might not even a single scout ship came in sight. The planet S66 lies in the outer rim of the galactic east. Very far from the human and zeno empires that inhabit the Milky way galaxy. Losing contact naturally meant death for all colonies involved, so her presense is always a boon.

After all the trivialities, Ilkhaver does his usual: trouble shooting and maintenance. The master of communications knows all the bells and whistles of the communications array but her capabilities in keeping it running is hardly rudimentary. That's where Ilkhaver comes in, he's supposed to do what many can't do which is to fix or make something new. If there is something Ilkhaver gained from doing the same thing over and over again, it's his ability to use the devices far more proficiently. He managed to get a headstart since she spent more time with him ever since his wife died. He can't tell what it is but their relationship even blossomed to more than just being friends.

It's never easy to forget someone you loved even if they never were that precious to you. He was even filled with rage when he saw her took three bullets to the chest that not a single Drester was in sight after his rage ceased. He became another person afterwards. Nearly forgeting his own wife in his bloodlust to kill more and even losing the decency to remember her memory when he outright progressed their relationship closer till their boundaries were no more. They were lovers in public and in bed, yet they made sure to never sire for once. Sczelour was happy with the prospect of a new couple but was disheartened when they declared to not bear children. Trejan, with his near twisted thinking thought it amusing to listen on her lamentations as Ilkhaver does his penile conquests as he watches from afar like a teenage voyeur.

But one thing in particular gave him bloodshot eyes. He never understood what it meant before. But he always noticed it. If there's one thing that's clear about Talhavitan society, it would be specialization of the worst sense. A pilot can never be a foot soldier, a teacher can never be a clerk, a priest can never be a driver, a doctor can never be musician, a ship captain can never be a tank driver and so on. It would be even more impressive after learning that Talhavitas stood for more than five hundred years without change. The thing he noticed made him flinch. It was a a bunch of letters that stood for something. He knew what the colors were for but he never knew what the letters were supposed to mean until now. It took him a while reading the very acronym in his scavenged book only to find that those letters meant Orbital Communications Satellite written in a dead language and the colors were in red which meant that contact was switched off. If only this could not be changed very simply. Just as Vaila was preparing a snack, Ilkhaver pressed a couple of buttons and to his surprise the message section was filled to the brim with messages asking them how they were doing. The only terrifying prospect of his discovery is that the messages stopped coming a couple of decades ago. And there was no such thing as an explanation.

One thing in particular made him churn bones in his gut as he read a secure file from one of his old colleagues in the capital. The scandal and indecency of the writing and the content made him want to vomit whatever was left inside him. This man was someone he could've sworn he knew from the inside out. But what happened to the virtuous man who he once even idolized? When was the coup de grace? That man now kills people in the dozens for glory? Participates in orgies since his one hundred and fifties? Killed his wife and had sex with her after she found out that he molested a five year old and threatened him with indencency? What's worse is that it's not just one man, all of the people he grew up with did and they boasted it. Whether man or woman, he found out in mere minutes. And they weren't even punished to some degree, the higher-ups constantly destroy the evidence no matter the cost. If only there were no footage or even news of the younger ones doing their best to preserve and emulate Talhavitan values he would have had a heart attack.

Was he wallowing in the mud while they let go of their depraved selves? Is this why the Dresters rebelled since the day they could bear arms and fight? Were they actually more intelligent than him?

His head wracked his pride with questions as he turned his unfeeling eyes to a Vaila who carried a tray of snacks. Her smile was so prevalent but still her eyes betrayed. She gently placed the tray as he swiveled the chair facing her and with a big sigh, asked: " Why did you do it?"

" Hmmm?" She replied in a silly smile as he pressed the button and revealed the entire array of messages, news and stuff.

" This Vaila! Why did you hide this! Why did you do it!" He asked coldly and sternly.

Vaila didn't even look surprised at this feat, her wrinkly face just smiled more sincerely as if she waited for this moment.

" I knew in one way or another that you'll find out. You're the genius after all."

" That's not the question. I asked! Why did you..."

" Do it?" She interrupted him as she caressed his still intact but predominantly gray hair.

" It's because... I can't take, I can't accept it anymore. There's no place for me back home."

" What? What do you mean by there's no place for you back home."

" Do you even remember Sarai?" She asked now, though coldly.

" Why would I forget my wife." By now his voice toned down, and his face turned to frown.

" Did you really think that I never felt guilty of what I've done? Sarai was a good friend, but I never imagined I would be stealing you when she needs you most. I was distressed and in pain back then. The people I knew were not even true, they were bare bones wearing flaky skin. I thought it just our mutual friends at first but when Ragoon was in the picture, I was disheartened. He wasn't even the man I fell in love with before. I didn't want to go back."

" But why? Why didn't you just tell me or even her? She's your best of best friends? Why were you just waiting than telling us all of what you've found when you knew this yourself?"

" Because I thought that by hiding these facts from you and the others, I thought that we would be safe. That you of all people would never change."

She sighed as she continued: " I panicked by then that I keep waking up screaming, I needed a shoulder to cry on, a somebody to lean on. I didn't want you to be like them, you were the only comfort I ever had. You barely changed and when I came for you, you loved me more than he could ever do. You never flinched for centuries until that very time that you did."

" But still..." He stopped in his words as he thought ' Were the others aware of this?'

" Trejan and Sczelour? Did they know?" He continued with a growl.

" No, they don't. Only you and I know." She replied.

" So, what truly happened to Pedro?"

As of now, that distant memory returned. She could still smell, the blood and rot that once dominated the air. She remembered the pool of blood, the thin but enduring metal wire, the screaming man that she drowned and choked in a sea of red as she struggled in the dark. And the amount of evidence she disposed of in the scene as she let an entire hoard of the dead go mungin' the now dead Pedro as she took a shower and cleaned herself.

" You don't want to know." Her voice was oddly youthful, though in a very soft way.

His head still wrecked and wanting an easy solution to the problem, decided to leave for a while and started drinking his Ersatz coffee.

***

Moaning and and some screaming was heard as Trejan approached a well lighted tunnel. These were not just some scream of a dying person, these sounded like they came from the damned. All pain, like those waddling in hell's lakes. The sounds echoed until he approached a seemingly empty dead end. The very way that Trejan opened this his secret door was very simple; he marked a saltire on that rocky wall and it split.

The way ahead was filled with women and girls in chains and in pain. None of them could even dare look at him. Most of them had blood on their faces or bodies, and all stark naked and near withered. However, a few things were kind of weird in the distance. Two well shaped, curvacious and beautiful women were whipping the people around them wearing nothing but leather loins. One in particular of these women was his current favorite, Katie.

He sneaked behind her and pulled her hair from the back before rotating her body towards him, giving her a long kiss. He looks at the little girl that they were whipping to death and found her very attractive that he started sniffing and licking her brests. Mind you, she looked just as old as Cassie. After having his fill, she told them to take the girl to his room and give her a bath. Her fate was sealed as they carried her to that dimly lit place.

One of the corridors featured a very elaborate door with strange symbols and reliefs. Despite being the overall ruler of this place, this door is the one thing that he can't understand the most. Only that this was Sczelour's pleasure garden, that was all that he knew. Inside this was something extremely weird for the eyes. Of all the members, Ilkhaver and Vaila looked old by default. Trejan maintained the looks of a thirty year old terran, but Sczelour looked just like a teenager despite growing up alongside Trejan.

And most devious of them all then this crimson clad room with all the crimson dyed fabrics and religious reliefs pinned in the walls was the white luxurious bed in the middle in the room where Sczelour was enjoying pinning and violating a twelve year old. Her cries were all that Trejan could hear, the tears soaked the sheets and foam. Her face red, and her presence near dying. She can't even say a word to resist.

" Don't you ever get tired screwing the same girl for days old man? I think this was your newest. What happened to the other one?" Trejan inquired as he approached the bed.

" Where else!" He replied as he pounded that girl harder and harder that she screamed like she just had her arm cut off.

" I gave her to Ilkhaver. They make for very good commander you see. Very fresh and malleable." he continued as he quickened the pace without mercy for the poor kid whose backside was filled with blood.

" You really should stop wasting your toys, I mean look at me. I had nearly thirty of them waiting for me in the next room, and they're all kinky." Trejan replied jeering at the Youthful bastard up front.

" I don't give a damn." He replied as he finished her session after giving her a massive slap in the butt. However she didn't even exclaim in pain, she barely grunted.

Trejan decided to poke her face but she just wouldn't even seem to move. At this point Sczelour was drinking some rough liquor when Trejan checked her pulse. She was gone, for barely a fraction of a second her pulse left. Who knew what that handsome bastard was doing.

" Too bad, you could've enjoyed it with me little one." He whispered into her lifeless ear before he gave her a kiss in her forehead.

" What? You want to try it while she's dead?" Sczelour looked at him with a dirty stare as he walked towards the bed.

" No, I might want to borrow her. Our master of technologies might prove useful with what I want."