***
Experiment ID: A01-COMBAT-ENG-01
Date: Philos Calendar Year [Redacted]
Recorded By: OTHAN-17642
Objectives:
1. Assess Subject A-01's combat response under battlefield conditions.
2. Monitor autonomous movement and reflex efficiency.
3. Observe battlefield interactions that deviate from standard combat patterns for later analysis.
--Othan Research Bureau Report No. 7702
***
The battlefield stretched endlessly, a haze of metal and fire. Explosions painted the horizon in brief flashes, their force rippling through the ground. The heat of burning wreckage, the distant cold of the void overhead—sensations flickered at the edge of awareness, distant and muted. Her body only registered the extremes.
Still, she moved.
Not by thought, not by memory, but by something deeper. Instinct, programming—whatever it was, it propelled her forward. Her fingers curled around the weapon before she even registered its weight. Her feet carried her, precise and fluid, weaving between bodies, debris, and shadows. There was no hesitation, no uncertainty. Her blade struck, clean and efficient, severing the unstable forms of the creatures before her.
She did not remember how she learned to fight. But her body did.
The air was thick with the scent of charred metal. The sky, fractured by artificial lights and streaks of energy fire, loomed overhead. Shapes moved in the haze—some human, some not. The Wanderers. Twisted forms shifting between the organic and mechanical, their very existence unnatural. Her gaze flicked over them, but no fear registered. There was no room for it.
A shriek cut through the air, and something leapt from the smoke. Her body reacted before thought could form. A sharp sidestep. A calculated strike. The hum of her weapon slicing through flesh that wasn't flesh. The creature collapsed, its body dissolving into black nothingness before it touched the ground. Her vision adjusted, tracking movement—preparing for the next enemy.
Then she saw them.
A figure in the distance, moving as she did.
Not a soldier, not like the others. Their stance, their precision—it was the same. Their cybernetic suit clung to them like a second skin, sleek and segmented, designed for battle. It was like hers, not a uniform, but something built into them, fused with them. Their eyes met for the briefest moment—cold, unreadable, and yet, familiar. Recognition flickered. And then, the moment passed.
The battlefield did not wait, and neither did they.