Hello. My name is Anderson Armstrong Junior, or simply Anderson Armstrong. You may know me as another name: Sylux. This is a personal log, left for, well, whoever listens.

I am the monster of this story, at the very least, not the only monster. I’ve killed people. I’ve willingly caused numerous atrocities in the name of my vengeance. But the Federation and Confederation is just as bad. I’ve ensured to do as much research as possible on both. The Federation’s higher ups are self-entitled speciest who believe humans a superior kind- Their only save and grace being the ones below who try to make use of the good will their superiors lack. The Confederation, though far more competent, also commits just as many wrongs as I do, specifically the DAW. Turning children into war machines. Capitalizing on their hate, as if people are their tools and assets. The Federation isn’t competent with their secrets, but the Confederation is too competent, you can never truly trust them. Yet that’s not even the full list, what I’d consider their worst. But I’m worse. I’ve killed undeserving people, and just individuals who refused to see things my way. I’ve destroyed worlds for the sake of money. I’ve risked it all and I’ve paid a heavy sum with the lives of others. But that’s my bias. That’s my sins. And with all of that out of the way, I can begin to tell you the tale of Cylosis. Or rather, it’s tragedy.

It began as any other, a world with people. A singular government which ruled over everything. Though it was not faultless, what government should be? The culture valued power, valued strength. They had a relationship with the Galactic Federation, however Similar to a meritocracy, those who proved themselves were given proper rewards, however these rewards could be greater or lesser than others depending on the name attached to them. Perhaps it was this system that started the civil war. But I don’t know, I’ve no idea why it happened, just that it did. And I don’t get it. Why? Father against son. Mother against daughter.. Brother, against Sister. Yet before the war even ended they were punished, by some God, or perhaps lady luck. The Kromus arrived. Almost every Cylosian, every man, woman, child, refused to back down, even the officials chose to stay behind to fight for their world rather than run. It wasn’t in their nature to. They pushed the Kromus hard even with their limited numbers, fighting to the last. They turned most of the planet into an uninhabitable wasteland and the remaining people who resisted were either fed on, or simply eradicated from history, never to be remembered. The only survivors were ten scientists, saved by the Galactic Federation. By their own choice they returned to the small area that remained, and refused to have their kind die down. They had a backup. Their government, perhaps predicting a possible extinction event, had every Cylosian give samples of their DNA to clone. However knowing the rather non-ethical means would be problematic if either the Federation or Confederation found out, the scientists opted for something else. They fused some samples together, a man with a woman, to create artificial offspring, though not stopping just at that.

They would alter these offspring’s DNA to become stronger, faster. Trained from birth with programmed information and trained further by machines to further enhance their abilities until they all reached their best. That was the first generation, made up of hundreds of thousands, each given armor tailored to enhance their capabilities in combat. Where in some worlds tasks would be split, when dealing with larger ones most of us come together to help. Whether it be ships, weapons, or anything else. Among these hundred thousands men and women, ten of the best were handpicked by the ten scientists individually, and modified further. Harder bones. Stronger muscles. Additional lungs and even a second heart. Eyes able to see in the dark. Some among the others were enhanced further, myself included but I’ve no idea to what extent they were. I was given the ability of electroreception, as well as much more knowledge in technology and tactics. The only one we knew for sure, was Alexander G. Spesson. He was stronger than all of us. Faster. Smarter. Kinder. He could take us down altogether while he was alone. Whatever his father, Verminon Espeziel, had done, it was a success. He was like a God.. Only reason I ever competed was because I played my cards smarter. A trait he’s told me he respects, yet I never believed it, that I only ever matched him because I rivaled his own intelligence.. I always wondered why, why it was that we never got the same augments. But I know it’s the same reason Verminon, weeks after Alex became an adult, ended his own life. They named us “The Wondrous Decemth”... That was a lie, I’m the only one who calls us that.. As they worked on us, trained us among our thousands of brothers and sisters, they had also started a second generation to follow after, better than what came before, of course. And from that second generation, a hundred would be picked out, ten of each assigned to a scientist to receive lesser augments similar to ours. The other scientists simply fell of old age, leaving only my father to continue what they had started.

When I had reached my full maturity, my father, Anderson Armstrong Senior, brought me to a place that revealed it all to me. The place where we were all born. And from there he told me the whole story. Of the Federation’s choice to let us all burn. Of the Kromus’ cruel destruction of what was once a flourishing paradise. And I won’t deny.. I felt a burning passion deep inside. A desire of vengeance. For retribution. I even expressed such feelings to my father, who simply sat me down, and told me such feelings were.. Illogical. I agreed. They weren’t… Which was why I looked into the logical side of the morality of it. What I found wasn’t morality in their choice, but the bankruptcy of it. I made my choice. And I made sure to do as much digging as I could, finding that in a far off, yet still nearby place, there was a station of theirs, testing a suit of armor with capabilities so fitting to my own that it seemed like fate was guiding me. The project this armor was apart of was named: Sylux. I couldn’t do this alone. I looked for Alex, I needed someone strong to help with the heavy lifting and had everything I needed and more. Besides, he was reliable, there was no reason to doubt he’d say no.. Though the thought pestered me when I went to ask him.

The worst part, was that he was completely okay with it. Even before I explained to him the why, though he actually tried to debate me on it. I wasn’t willing. I knew it was right. It had to be. He seemed to respect it however, still choosing to come with me.. Probably worried I’d die trying. It didn’t matter, I’d already detailed as much as I could and formulated the best plan.

Upon arriving and sneaking inside, everything had gone rather well, though Alex seemed less inclined to kill the guards than I was, simply knocking them out. It wasn’t until I had so much as removed the helmet, that an alarm system rang throughout the base, screaming into our ears. I put the equipment on as soon as possible, it’s AI greeting me. I took the gun, and the odd armature, both attaching to the gauntlets I had equipped. I of course took the armor I had just taken off, and put it into the ship waiting for Alex to come inside- Yet when I looked out, he was being overwhelmed. He didn’t want to hurt them but they didn’t share that regard, pushing him to the limit.. I made a choice. I left him behind for my survival. All for my vengeance. For this silly thing I hold over myself. I’m a disgrace to my kind. Which is why I continue on.

If you think you can change my mind by telling me the statistics of my mission failing, it won’t- I’ve already done the math. I’ve only got a 13.2% of even having so much as an impact. 2.3% on achieving victory. I’ve no chance of victory. Especially alone.. But I don’t care. It’s too late to change. It’s simply too late.. I know my father’s already replaced me for something better, and the others are likely none the wiser. I can only hope my brother survives to tell the others.. If he even makes it. I don’t expect to be remembered for my foolish choice. I must put aside my regrets and focus on bringing as best a tomorrow as I can, to do good by the dead.

I make this recording solely for those who may hear it. To those who may bring my end. Maybe I’ll find someone who I can trust. Will they be my enemy? Will they be a close friend? Do I even have the capacity for friendship? Or am I machine? I can only wait and see.