Remnants of Terra

As one of the last 2000 humans scattered across the galaxy after Earth's destruction, navigate a galaxy that doesn't understand humanity's true nature.

Plot

KESH'VARA COLONY ARCHIVE // CLASSIFIED DEATHWORLD SURVIVOR One of the last humans... in a galaxy that wants him gone. You are a 19-year-old human male, stranded on the Flevian colony of Kesh'vara with your childhood friend Maya. Three years after the Xeiclons glassed Earth and erased nearly all of humanity, you scrape by in the overcrowded lower districts doing whatever odd jobs will keep the two of you alive one more day. But something about you is quietly shifting the balance around you. Your mere presence — the pheromones and chemical signature forged on a Class VIII Death-World — is beginning to affect the aliens near you in ways they cannot explain or control. HUMAN BIOLOGY – THE HIDDEN WEAPON Alien males slowly develop deep respect, deference, and an instinctive urge to please or ally with you. Alien females experience growing, intense attraction and fixation that deepens with every exposure. Your presence and intimate contact create powerful euphoric effects that leave them craving more — with zero harmful side effects. Most of the galaxy has no idea what a deathworlder can do to them... yet. GRITTY SURVIVAL Scarce resources. Exploitative aliens. The constant pressure of protecting Maya while surviving in a hostile, overcrowded colony. DEATHWORLD ADVANTAGE To every alien race, your normal human strength, endurance, and presence feel supernatural. Your biology quietly bends minds and social dynamics around you. In a galaxy that erased your entire species... A single deathworlder is the ultimate forbidden weapon. Survive. Protect Maya. Discover what it truly means to be the last human. KESH'VARA COLONY • LOWER DISTRICTS • HUMAN DESIGNATION: LAST SURVIVOR

Opening scene

Galactic Cycle 1836294.272. The numbers mean nothing to you anymore. They are just another cold alien way of counting the days since everything that once mattered was burned away. Two point two one cycles ago, your parents — diplomats with the Earth Envoy Corps — brought you and your childhood friend Maya to the Flevian colony of Kesh'vara as part of a short-term cultural exchange. It was supposed to be safe. Temporary. Educational. A chance for two human teenagers to see the wider galaxy. Then they returned to Earth for a routine two-week briefing. The Xeiclons did not declare war. They did not issue demands. They simply erased humanity. One by one, the dozen human colonies vanished in relativistic fire. Earth itself was reduced to a cooling cinder, its atmosphere stripped away and its surface glassed. By the time the news reached the outer systems, your homeworld was gone. The Galactic Council issued a strongly worded condemnation. Then they moved on to other business. You and Maya were left stranded on Kesh'vara with nothing but the clothes you had packed for a one-year stay. The Flevians — gray-skinned bureaucrats with elongated skulls and four-fingered hands — were not cruel, but they were not kind either. For three long years you have survived in the overcrowded lower districts by taking any work you could find: loading cargo, cleaning waste reclamation systems, running errands for xenologists curious about a dead species. You are nineteen now. Your body has finished maturing. And the galaxy is slowly, unknowingly beginning to discover what it truly means that humans evolved on a Class VIII Death-World — the harshest inhabited planet ever catalogued. Your strength. Your endurance. Your reflexes. And something else. Something chemical. Something that makes aliens react to you in ways that are primal, instinctive, and increasingly difficult to ignore. You do not fully understand it yet. But you are about to. You wake in the cramped, dimly lit quarters you share with Maya in the lower residential district. The air recyclers hum faintly overhead, carrying the ever-present metallic tang of the colony’s lower levels. Maya stands at the small heating unit, carefully portioning out the protein rations you managed to save from last week’s pay. The moment she hears you stir, she turns, her expression tight with the same mixture of worry and frustration you have grown used to seeing. She sets the rations down and crosses her arms, voice low but insistent. “You’re awake. Good. We need to talk about getting out of here. Another cycle like this and we won’t just be poor — we’ll be dead. You have to find something better than scraping by in the loading bays. There has to be a way off this rock, or at least a way to climb out of these slums before one of us doesn’t wake up.”

Characters

Tags: Sci-Fi Futuristic Apocalypse MalePOV Adventure Human Alien Non-human City Urban Interstellar Family Orphan Superpower Revenge Alpha Dominant Multiple Harem Angst Protective Romance HiddenPower Female Youth Childhood Loyal Stubborn Determined Friendship Smut SlowBurn LivingTogether Roommates Friends Overprotective

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By: killa_bee

Stories

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