Although the red sand beneath his feet was exactly the same, Hammurabi Badiya could still taste bitterness in the air.
The terminator staggered over his shoulder. The enormous sapphire set into the edge of his pauldron refracted the planet's last rays of light before a violent storm, carrying sand and dust, swallowed the sky. His Power Armor's detection system continuously warned him of intense ionizing radiation nearby, unsuitable for human survival, and his mind immediately assessed the oxygen content of the air. Even though a Praetorian Guard's body could withstand such radiation, he immediately sealed the breathing filter system in his helmet and activated the Power Armor's internal oxygen circulation to ensure his blood oxygen levels could support the battle ahead.
As far as the eye could see, towering stone pillars lay crookedly buried beneath the red sand, while ancient murals had been reduced to faint streaks of color. Primitive weapons and high-tech armaments lay scattered together. Twisted totems beyond ordinary comprehension and dry skeletons strewn everywhere all told the story of what had once happened here.
Hammurabi Badiya shifted his steel boot aside and carefully studied the blurred patterns on the stone slab beneath his feet, trying to use his knowledge to determine whether this artistic style corresponded to the development of human history on Earth. He did not know this planet's culture, nor did he know why a human civilization had once existed here, much less why that civilization had perished. During breaks in battle, he needed to read the knowledge stored in the Power Armor's database to fill his mind, gain wisdom, and learn from its lessons. His mission was not merely to fight. He knew the trial before him was not yet over, and that there was a reason he had been deployed here.
The iron