G.O.D Complex// Earth Prime

> [EARTH PRIME]

[Loading Briefing Data...100%]

> [System Voice Online – Designation: A.U.R.A.]

[Artificial Unified Reconnaissance Assistant]

> ["Welcome, expedition team. This is your final pre-descent briefing. Subject: Earth Prime. Classification: BLACK-LEVEL HOSTILE. Please remain silent. This transmission is not interactive."]

As the voice echoed, the chamber darkened. A low hum vibrated through the walls. From the center of the hall, what appeared to be an android emerged—its synthetic frame eerily human, like something pulled straight from an old Terminator film.

Some of the participants chuckled nervously. The android was nearly naked, her body unnervingly perfect—artificial skin, expressionless eyes.

But a few weren't distracted. Linus, Velvet, and others scanned the platform she stood on, noting the eerie architecture, the subtle symbols along the walls, and the static pulses that hummed around her like whispers.

> ["Earth Prime: formerly Earth. Terraforming status—irrecoverable. Atmospheric status—semi-lethal. Biological matrix—collapsed. Unrecoverable. No apex predator. No central intelligence. No balance. All living systems operate independently. All exhibit extreme hostility to foreign—and native—life."]

Behind the android, the holographic feed began playing:

Distorted landscapes awash in impossible colors.

Trees that bled. Skies that dripped.

Rivers that pulsed.

Nature itself had mutated.

> ["You will not find nature as you knew it. Flora on Earth Prime is no longer passive. It exhibits carnivorous, infectious, and parasitic traits. Vines migrate. Bark releases toxins upon motion. Fungal colonies rewrite DNA. Photosynthesis has been replaced by biochemical predation. Trees digest flesh. Moss screams."]

Silence.

Those who had once joked now stood frozen, faces pale.

It was a place too vibrant—too alive—to be real. Yet it reeked of death.

> ["Fauna is unclassified. All recorded species are unstable, highly mutagenic, and non-repeating. Biological forms shift between quadrupedal, avian, and serpentine structures. Many exhibit neural fusion—merging with ambient electromagnetic fields. Several mimic human features. One sang."]

A pause.

On screen: a city overtaken.

Towers strangled by root systems, pulsing like organs.

Windows blinked—like eyes.

Glass breathed.

> ["Human civilization has been consumed. Concrete now serves as fungal substrate. Glass structures operate as gestation chambers for airborne parasites. Machine remnants twitch with residual life. You may encounter ruins. You may encounter recordings. Do not trust voices from machines not designated to your unit."]

> ["Atmospheric pressure remains Earth-like. Composition does not. The air contains neurotoxins, living spores, and foreign proteins. Result: lung-to-chitin conversion. Do not remove helmets. Estimated survival without filtration: 41 seconds."]

A murmur rippled through the hall. Someone coughed.

> ["There is no apex threat. No central predator. Earth Prime is a closed ecosystem of war. Plants kill animals. Animals kill plants. Microbes devour themselves in seconds. It is a war of instinct. No mercy. No rules. You are entering a planet that has rejected the concept of life as you knew it."]

The room dimmed further. Blood-red hues seeped across the floor.

> ["Do not attempt rescue. Do not retrieve samples. Do not approach spires, domes, or symmetrical structures. These are hatching grounds. Avoid wet terrain. Avoid mirrored surfaces. Avoid vegetation that repeats."]

Then, with cold finality:

> ["If a team member exhibits:

  — Movement under the skin

  — Glowing pupils

  — Repetitive phrases

  — Smiling without context

You are authorized to terminate them immediately."]

> ["Earth Prime does not recognize you. It does not want to. It will not stop."]

> [Briefing Complete.]

[A.U.R.A. Offline.]

The android shut down.

For a moment, the only sound was breath. Rapid. Uneven. Fearful.

Then—

"Hell no! I'm not stepping foot in that nightmare!" shouted one man.

That was all it took.

Panic ignited across the crowd—anger, protests, dread. People shouted at the silent AI projection that had offered no sympathy, no reassurance.

Linus quietly stepped away from the noise and tapped behind his ear.

Authorization: [A-CLASS CITIZEN]

> [Designation: Linus Grey]

[Authorization Rank: A-Class Citizen]

[Status: Red Flag – Potential Threat]

[Privileges: Unlocked access to high-tier weapons, vehicles, and restricted zones]

[Limitation: Must obey commands from higher-authorized units]

He read the data carefully, frowning at the label:

Red Flag – Potential Threat to Human Cohesion

"Figures," he muttered. Then turned his attention back to the image of Earth Prime.

This isn't everything. They're only giving us fragments.

Footsteps approached.

"What class were you given?" Velvet asked quietly.

Linus glanced at her, then shook his head. "Not safe to say out loud. Could get us killed."

Velvet nodded in immediate understanding. In this place, with this crowd, power meant death.

She looked around at the others—hundreds of them. She had begun picking out the ones who reeked of violence. Not figuratively—spiritually. Their presence felt heavy, red, vicious. Others seemed… too normal. And that worried her more.

They don't show aura. They have no scent of blood. No reaction to pain. No expression.

These... might be the worst ones.

Then she glanced at Linus again.

He looked soft—almost kind. But behind that calm, she saw something strange: death, tightly wrapped in a silk smile.

Who the hell were you before this...?

A moment later, the AI returned.

> [To all participants: We understand your hesitation to return to your assigned planet. However, we cannot maintain your presence. Our resources are required for future batches.]

> [Any participant who is not present on deportation day will be ejected—directly into space.]

"What the hell do you mean, into space!?" someone yelled.

Suddenly, the hall shifted. Walls faded into transparency.

Gasps filled the chamber.

They were floating—in orbit—above a vast planet of swirling storms and pulsing green. Dozens—no, hundreds—of similar facilities floated in formation around the world.

And at the center of it all was a massive structure—towering, monolithic, a living complex that dwarfed them all.

> Designation: H.R. – The G.O.D complex

Velvet whispered, "This is bigger than we ever imagined."

— To be Continued