The Machine God Series: An Endless Nightmare

Chapter 1

The year is 204...

204 years since The Awakening. 204 years since the Zirosu people came to live on Eucaunna.

This planet once held an ancient race, who mysteriously disappeared long ago. What they left behind... unexplainable secrets, unbelievable technology, and the Metchi; enormous combat machines that bear curious resemblance to earthen beasts.

Metchi...

Without them, life on this harsh planet would be a whole lot tougher....

And so it begins...

"You headed for Souta too, strange young man?" An Eristarak War refugee turned to ask the stranger sitting next to him.

The stranger leaned against the wall of the small passenger cabin in the Cargo Bay of a Traveler. He could hear the sound of rocks and debris hitting the thickly armored side of the enormous vehicle, as it tore it's way down a nonexistent path to it's destination. He was a tall, lean, young man, no older than twenty, legs stretched out in front of him as he swayed with the movement of the Traveler. Though it was hot and stuffy, he continued to wear hs long black trench coat made of thick material, carefully stitched together, with different symbols sewn on the shoulders. It was a traditional mountain uniform that was well taken care of, worn with pride, complete with a black fedora that kept the head warm. The young man turned his head to look at the war refugee who spoke to him, revealing the face of the Demon God Eclipse, a carefully carved and intricately painted, unique mask from the mountain tribes. It's toothy grin and piercing golden, glass eyes were enough to make anyone's spine tingle. The stranger only nodded.

"A Zirosu of the mountains, eh? That's a rather creepy mask you have there." The refugee continued. "Why on Eucaunna would you choose that mask to represent you? Perhaps if I knew more about the Mountain Tribes, I'm sure I could guess which one you were from, just by taking a look at the fine work of the mask. But alas, I cannot."

The Traveler rocked violently to and fro, as it navigated the unforgiving terrain. There were several loud thuds against the opposite wall, then the screeching of metal sliding against metal. Some turned their head to look, as if they could see through the wall. Others just huddled closer together, their frail and thin bodies shaking underneath the rags they called clothes. Most of the people in the cabin were refugees running to the safety of Souta from the pitiless, merciless, Eristarakian army. Many carried the scars of the struggles, some in the form of being branded by the heavenly symbol of Eristarak, proof that they would be "saved". Others were wounded, from only skin deep cuts, to missing limbs. They would carry the memories with them forever, unable to forget what was permanently scarred, both physically and mentally.

But, will they really find salvation in Souta? Or are they merely stepping from one terrible war zone, to another? How different really is the war Eristarak engages in against the "sinners", compared to the war between Souta and Inean? Both are pointless. Both are just endless bloodshed and hollow victories.

"Tell me, young man of the mountains who hides his face, what is your name?" The refugee questioned further.

The tension in the cramped space sparkled like electricity, illuminating the irrational fear and hate. Unforgiving, soulless eyes of the rest of the refugees stared at the young man, just as they stared at the rest of the small group of Mountain people. So desperate were they to find something to take the pent up anger of their pain and suffering on, they gave into the lies; the stupid and ridiculous rumors that circled about. The young man from the mountains had no need to understand them, their looks conveyed everything. "Monsters" "Tall, evil beasts from hell." "I hope they won't eat us" " Is there really a Zirosu face behind those masks? Why else would they wear them, if not to hide their true forms!" But, he guessed it was to be expected. It was not more than twenty years ago, the Mountain people had revealed their existence to the world. Previously, the mountains were thought to be too harsh a climate to be remotely livable. Even to the day, there were those who didn't believe that the Tribes existed in the mountains at all. They were nothing but a myth. It was true, the mountain climate was very unforgiveable, and to live there, you had to be strong and disciplined. But they were no myth. Still, they were the focus of society's discrimination and hate. The mountain people were strange. They were different. They were mutants. They were an enemy needing to be crushed by society, by those who were "normal". This feeling was only magnified in the refugees by the emotional distress that kept expanding, filling everywhere and everything in the tiny room lit by only a few lights that flickered as the Traveler swayed. I can only dread what society will think of me, thought the young mountain man.