The setting light bled through the yawning holes in the rocky canopy, spilling into the hollow underbelly of the world. It slid down the weathered monolithic pillars, poured past the looming trees, and spread deeper still—until it reached the two figures at the center of it all.
The rest were merely an audience.
Bo's expressionless visor faced the beast of a man standing before him. Hulking and unashamed, the giant wore only a scorched metal breastplate over a leather vest, baggy fur-wrapped shorts, and toeless wraps bound around thick calves. Ropes crossed over his chest like coiled sinew, arms wrapped around them like tensioned steel.
The man stared down his nose at Bo, fierce blue eyes flicking with something between confusion and approval—before a sharp, wide grin stretched across his face. He bared his teeth in something far too delighted to be friendly.
"Roa! Roa-Tor! Jshew tor vorrak draggaj gravich. Nerra jorun!" he bellowed.
The crowd behind them roared lively.
Their cheers rang out in rising rhythm, pale brown tails wagging like eager hounds. They chattered loudly among themselves—excited. Almost joyful. It didn't comfort Bo.
He'd never struggled with language barriers before. Not even with that one strange women he knew who insisted on speaking in the dead languages of Earth times. That was annoying. But this? This was frustrating.
It made his blood boil.
A frustrated part of him itched to just make them learn Sol. Clean. Efficient. Structured. The best language in the whole universe. But he held it down. He wasn't here to teach. He wasn't here to colonize.
…Not yet.
The large man turned and strode away without a word. The xenos parted to let him pass, still howling with excitement, all eyes flicking back toward Bo cautiously. Waiting. Expecting him to do something more.
Some among them hand their hands close to their fish hook swords. Bo looked to Heaterin beside him, wanting to ask—what the hell is happening? For here to take the lead, for her to guide him. Her eyes were wide and uncertain, echoing the question.
There was no leads to follow. No path. No translation.
He'd been shoved into center stage, handed a foreign script, and told to perform.
So, Bo did the only thing left. He followed.
"LIRA, what the hell are you doing in there?" Bo muttered into his helmet.
[Rudimentary translation only. Language structure exceeds pattern recognition thresholds. Dialect irregular, syntax unstable. Translation suspended to prevent mission error. Recommend launching a dedicated linguistic module—with your permission of course.]
"...Will we run into more hiccups like this?"
[Possibly. Alternate dialects likely. New module should learn faster than I can manually.]
"Then launch it."
Bo took his gaze off the cape of the man ahead and glanced around as he walked, following him.
The ground beneath his boots was packed earth, broken in places by plots of tilled soil. Large red-green flowers grew in rows. Wooden houses perched above on thick support beams, scattered sparsely across the cavern, each connected by ropes and walkways.
Children in white robes crouched along the walkways above, eyes wide, tails swinging around uncontrollably. One yelled something to the others in a high pitch voice. The children followed along the walkways as much as they could.
Then Bo saw it—something beyond the homes. The cavern opened up to an even large cavity.
A shimmering blue light at the base of the cavern, seeping through a wide, gaping arch cut into the rock. The salted breeze drifted in with it. Massive steps, shaped more for giants than men, carved downward toward the shore. The deeper they went, the rougher the stone became.
The scattered settlement encircled it like a ring—stilted homes, rope bridges, and lean docks stretching toward calm waters. Boats bobbed silently in the tide. And there, at the heart of it all, was a circular depression in the stone—splashed in deep hues of red, green, and blue at the devide between rock and shore.
The man stopped, half-turning his caped shoulder toward Bo.
He jabbed a rough finger toward the circle and grunted something again.
"Jshew vorrak dak. Vorrak vashtor."
Bo figured it was a warning. Or history. Or a declaration. Either way, he didn't understand a word.
Then, without warning, the man bent his knees—leather groaning under the strain—and launched himself like a micro missile. Wind cracked behind him.
The giant soared, cloak flaring, and landed at the center of the circle with a rumbling thud. Now a small figure in the distancd, it turned to Bo expectantly.
Bo stared. That had to be... five, no—eight kilometers? With a three-kilometer drop?
That was impossible. That was fatal.
Except... it wasn't. Bo watched the man stand, stretch, walk. Bo knee that alien planets are strange but that didn't mean they could defy common sense.
One thing Bo was uncertain of, it's that if he tried he'd mostly likely break something just dropping for the first ledge of 6. Unlike the cliff before, there was no loose dirt, no incline, no logical sense he could do the same.
These were xenos at the end if the day.
Bo's gaze dropped to the ledge atleast 10 stories high beneath his own feet. Survivable, but he'd definitely break something beyond if he tried the send "step" too.
[Pilot. If you are considering a jump, allow me to interrupt: I will lock out every actuator in your legs if necessary.]
LIRA's tone was clipped. Dead serious.
"Relax. I'm a captain, I know the difference between a calculated risk and guaranteed failure," Bo muttered, eyeing the winding wooden path instead.
He found a narrow stair, log beams wedged into the rock wall, winding downward.
[Were, a catain. We know how that ended up.]
Bo paused.
That word, of all things, made his chest tighten.
He inhaled slowly. Exhaled even slower, keeping those memories locked up.
"Hey." He said dangerous, "Mention that crap again I swear. I'm turning you off and replace you with a damb calculator, fling you at a wall, on until you break when I get to Sol. Understood?" he said. Calm. Plain.
[...Understood Pilot, I miscalculated and i will not repeat that behaviour again. I apologise.]
[Shut up and do your job.]
Then he descend down deeper.
Four levels. Five. Six. The sea sigh and shifting tides grew louder, save for the distant cheers. Xenos watched him trudge rough rock, clearing space like he would run them over.
He dragged his metal boots across stone and timber with purpose.
At the final ledge, Bo dropped the 4 meters deep into the circle in a solid, armor-heavy thump.
Ahead, the man was waiting—stretching his arms behind his head, hearing a satisfing crack though his back. His bored blue eyes started to fill with a tide of eagerness.
The xeno folk gathered around, others watched on their perch overlooking them. The air was filled with voices.
And Bo looked at that man before him and he lifted his hand up to his chest and huffed.
"Jshew hep Torjin." He introduced himself, then his voice rose in volume. "Haki jepta Torjin! Ak Torjin-har hegga! Ak Bek nuhjaska toh jikker! Jshew Hakhakkoho vashtor!" The crowd's cheered at a fever pitch around Bo.
The man, Torjin probably, roared as well into the air. Bo wondered if Heaterin was here watching this.
Most likely.
This was probably their way of saying hello, their greetings ceremony, Bo reasoned. Bo turned on his microphone at a thought and increased his suit volume before announcing himself.
"I am Bo Caelum, son of Sol." He said simply. The crowd cheered him too.
They kept cheering but the enthusiasm was clearly confused and forced as it drew down as he said nothing looking at him expectantly. Torjin saved the momentum by saying something to the crowd again.
Without warning Bo say his vision filled with a loading bar rapidly filling to 100% then display briefly a text.
[Dual-processing large language model auto-translation installed.]
[Running...]
Suddenly Bo's entire brain tickled, his ears were filled with perfect Sol Lingua Valgaris coming from the xenos. The knowledge on how to speak like them dripped into his mind, his tongue needed to press against his jaw to simulate them.
"—Come now my brothers and sisters let us test steel, let us bare teeth, let us see this titanbornes' strength!" Torjin yelled before Bo at the crowds and they all chanted.
[Blood! Teeth! Steel!]
Bo's mind raced. They wanted to kill him all along? Should he grab his gun and shoot him to end the fight?
Torjin yanked out his two fish hook swords slung on his sides and buried the blade halfway in the pulverised rock. He spread his hand wide gripping the air, taking a low predatory stance.
If they wanted Bo dead wouldn't they keep their weapon. If he was as strong as he could jump he could rush Bo and slice him, but he could not pose a threat to Bo.
Bo was wearing military-grade exo armour made with alloy . He couldn't get hurt in very little ways the xenos can do. The train of thought calmed him down and led him to the conclusion:
They were testing him, they were probably sparring to see who's dominant, Bo thought. They were primitive xenos after all.
If fighting meant strength to them then Bo was glad to show them how strong a Gaian soldier of Mars was.
"May you fight well..." He declared.
"May you fight well." Bo copied him.
The xeno grinned.
Someone in the crowd finally announced, "Prepare yourself! Ready! BITE!"