Call His Name (4)

Azihiro stirred awake, his body still aching but less fragile than before. The SOL system had given him a single nutrient solution, not some miracle elixir, but it granted him enough strength to move again and fill his hunger.

The liquid had a strange, metallic taste, not unpleasant but not exactly palatable either. As he sat on the cot provided inside the strange house formed by SOL, he stared at the now-empty container for a long while, feeling the subtle hum of life in his limbs. It wasn't magic. 

He drifted into sleep not long after, exhaustion weighing heavier than his curiosity. Yet, in that temporary slumber, he was protected. Unbeknownst to him, SOL's structure had the ability to vanish from the eyes of the outside world, cloaking itself completely from sight.

Any creature or wanderer who passed by the spot he occupied earlier would see only red sands and the silhouette of ruin, no sign of life, no trace of Azihiro. It was as if he had simply disappeared.

Time passed without clear markers. The planet was so polluted, so smothered in dust and ash, that the difference between night and day was barely perceptible. The red-hued sky was constant, murky, and bloodshot like the lingering gaze of a dying star.

Even the concept of "morning" felt hollow, but the system did not care for such semantics. A mechanical chime echoed in his thoughts.

[Mission: Look for a body of water.]

Was it morning already? Azihiro blinked, processing the instruction.

There were no further details. Clean or dirty, large or small, none of it mattered. The order was simple. He needed to find water. He didn't question why. Perhaps SOL needed it for some function. Or perhaps it was testing him. Either way, he had to obey.

He stepped outside, and with a faint vibration, the house crumbled into light and returned to its Rubik's cube form, landing in his palm. The desolate land greeted him with scorching heat and a parched, lifeless wind. The ground stretched endlessly, appearing more like a desert wasteland than any habitable zone.

Azihiro's eyes scanned the horizon, finding nothing but wreckage and ruin. Still, he began walking. Steel beams protruded from cracked soil. Shattered remnants of machines littered the terrain.

Broken drones, fractured exo-suits, and husks of forgotten vehicles could be found anywhere. Their faded insignias and burned circuitry told the story of battles fought long ago.

Azihiro's fingers itched. Do I have space to collect some scraps and metals?

[The SOL system provides a space.]

With that prompt, a transparent display appeared before him, revealing a storage inventory. He was granted a hundred square meters of digital space, ample room for salvage. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. This could prove useful. He paused beside a crumbled, half-buried pod and knelt to examine it.

The paneling was rusted through, but inside, he found remnants of a tactical optical brain. Most of its data core was fried, but a few parts were salvageable. Optical brains were rare and valuable, half computer, half communication device. If he could assemble one, it would open many possibilities.

Azihiro gathered what he could. Titanium screws, reinforced alloys, carbon-threaded wires, anything that wasn't completely eroded went into the system's storage. His heart lifted with each small find. It was a bit like searching for treasure in a graveyard. And though the planet seemed dead, he realized it wasn't entirely silent.

A sound.

Low at first. Then louder.

A deep, echoing roar that vibrated through the earth.

Azihiro froze. His blood turned cold. That was not the wind.

The ground shook slightly as thudding steps approached from the distance. His instincts screamed at him to hide. He scanned his surroundings frantically until his eyes landed on the crumbled torso of a mecha suit lying in a ditch nearby.

Its upper half was intact enough to create a small space, just enough for one person to slip inside. He dove in and pulled a metal panel over the opening, holding his breath as the tremors grew closer. Through a narrow slit, he could see them, beasts. But not like any he'd ever encountered.

There were five of them, each towering and mutilated in form, their bodies made of organic muscle and technological parts. Tubes ran along their limbs. Glowing cores blinked rhythmically on their chests. One of them had a tail, which morphed fluidly into a battle axe, gleaming under the faint light like a weapon forged in hell.

Azihiro's heart pounded. These weren't wild Zergs or mutated predators. They were something else. Have beasts evolved on this planet? Are their genes mixed with technology? Or were they created as weapons on the battlefield?

The question churned in his head, but no answer surfaced. These hybrids moved with strange coordination, sniffing the air and releasing mechanical huffs from vents along their backs. Their eyes glowed with flickering red light, not natural but artificial. They weren't just beasts. They were engineered.

Biotech creatures?

He held his breath as they passed. One of them turned its head, pausing. Azihiro shut his eyes, counting seconds, willing himself not to move. After a tense pause, the creature let out a grunt and continued forward. When the last one disappeared over the slope, he waited five more minutes before crawling out from his hiding spot.

His body was drenched with sweat. The heat was unbearable now, and his legs trembled slightly under the strain. Yet the sight of those creatures stirred something in him, not just fear, but wonder. These beings were evidence of a far greater war, perhaps even an experiment gone wrong. Or right.

Will this planet also have plants with technology corruption in their bodies? Was it a chemical or the long-term pollution? The thought disturbed him. If the beasts could adapt or be designed like that, who was to say the flora hadn't evolved similarly?

Despite the questions gnawing at him, he pressed on. His skin burned under the sunless sky, and every step felt heavier. He wiped sweat from his brow and kept his eyes on the horizon. There had to be water somewhere. SOL wouldn't give him a task with no solution.

His mind wandered as he walked. Memories of his mission, of being betrayed, of that final breath before death filled his eyes. But also memories of the divine, of calling out to the Creator, a prayer whispered from bloodied lips. And receiving life in return.

He might not have all the answers yet. He didn't know who had made SOL or why it chose him. But he knew one thing. He was alive for a reason. And no matter how long it took, he would find that reason.

And when the time came…

He would call His name again.