Machina Arcanis: Two Worlds Collided

"Aye! Those loonies are still stuck in the medieval age, just like we were 500 years ago..." David sneered, his tone dripping with disdain for the mages of the Osten Empire, known as arcanists. Rare as they were, most people in Dunkelheit dismissed their existence as nothing more than myth and folklore.

"If those were real, See any of them floating around with you?" David smirked condescendingly, before leaning back on his chair. 

Jack pretended to sweep his eyes around mockingly, "Well, no…" He replied with a shrug.

"See? The point is… technology is the only thing that's real. With it, we've conquered the moon! Look at Luna Base — our headquarters now — where I breathe fresh, clean air every day," He argued passionately, emphasising the technological advancements of the Dunkelheit Empire. Three centuries ago, they had completely terraformed the moon, transforming it into a habitable planet and naming it 'Luna Base'.

"~Alright, alright. I get your point!" Jack interrupted, cutting David off before he could launch into another hour-long sermon about high-tech wonders. Jack knew his friend too well — David had grown up in one of Dunkelheit's sprawling capital cities, surrounded by endless steel, concrete, and technology. It was all too monotonous for Jack's taste.

Jack, on the other hand, hailed from Germund, a land under the reign of the Osten Empire, where true arcane magic was said to exist. Though he had never witnessed it himself, Jack believed in its power with unwavering conviction.

Despite their vastly different geopolitical backgrounds, they were as close as two peas in a pod. DebrisX embraced them both without prejudice or discrimination, fostering camaraderie among its diverse crew.

Normally, Jack would have found their debates amusing, even engaging with David's endless fascination with technology. But today was different — Jack's mind was elsewhere. He was eager to get the mission over with; there was a big fish to fry, and he couldn't afford any distractions.

"I just got the mission details... Patching through now," David said smoothly, his fingers gliding over the control panel. The sheer number of buttons would have been intimidating to most, but he handled them effortlessly. "All systems green. Handing control protocol over to you now, Jackie!" He added with a grin.

Jack's blue screen lit up, displaying multiple monitors with live feeds from each bot. He scanned the status indicators — fifteen green dots. Everything was in working order, and full control was now his. Sliding his hands into the control gloves, he flexed his fingers experimentally, manipulating the multi-directional buttons. Each bot moved flawlessly in response, their precision mirroring his slightest motions.

"Perfect," Jack muttered, satisfied with the seamless synchronisation. The stage was set, and it was time to execute.

"Neato!" Jack replied, nice and short.

"Well, what a way to resign! This one is easy… But labouring intensive… Collecting the compartment from the Alexandra wreckage… Its location should appear on your map, right about now," David informed and the map on Jack's screen pinged up as a red dot about 100 kilometres away from his location. 

"Thanks, I'll be taking it from here, moving in now!" Jack spoke into the comm.

"Best of luck, my good man!" David replied with a salute.

Thrusting spitting frame and exhausting, the engine rumbled, and Jack's group of puny bots accelerated toward the wreckage. His primary piloted bot led another 14 bots in the triangular formation, exactly like his fingers dictated them with high precision.

***

Amid the sprawling wreckage of the Alexandra, an ancient, colossal ship measuring five kilometres in length — an awe-inspiring marvel of engineering and construction — came into view. Jack navigated through the scattered debris: twisted metal, floating boxes, and sheets, weaving his way through the lower section of the ship. His eyes scanned the remains, calculating each movement with precision.

There, amidst the chaotic storm of debris, he spotted it, an opening leading into a large metal accessway. With steady hands and careful control, he guided his craft into the narrow corridor, drifting effortlessly through the dark expanse of the ancient vessel.

The automatic lights on the puny bots flickered to life, casting a cold glow over the passage ahead. The path was cluttered with floating bits and fragments of metal, suspended in eerie stillness. These relics had remained frozen in time, untouched and undisturbed for over a century.

"It smells like death in here..." Jack murmured to himself, a chill creeping up his spine. The sight of the abandoned hall only amplified his unease, the air thick with decay. A tightness gripped his chest, reminiscent of the time he had ventured into an abandoned hospital at night — its silence, oppressive and suffocating, pressing in on him from all sides.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

A sudden frantic sound blared from the comms, warning the pilot that something was zeroing in on one of his bots. Jack's eyes snapped to the front camera on the HUD screen, his pulse quickening. A broken puny bot, its limbs shattered and sparking, was drifting straight toward him. Without hesitation, he motioned to the controls, effortlessly guiding his bot to swerve out of the way, narrowly avoiding the collision. 

"...Another puny bot… Odds…" He muttered under his breath, it was impossible to discern if that bots were here 100 years ago or just recently. There was no decomposition in the enclosed space like this. 

Thud!

An abrupt, deafening noise vibrated through the cockpit, rattling Jack's nerves.

"AHH!" Jack shrieked in terror as a humanoid figure slammed into his sight glass, its impact sending a shockwave through the vessel. 

The lifeless body of a male figure, clad in a personal protection jumpsuit, was stuck to the wall of the vessel. His eyes were vacant, bloated with the emptiness of death, while his mouth hung open in a ghastly expression, teeth bared as though he had been screaming in agony at the moment of his demise. His skin had turned an unnatural pallor, veins visible beneath the surface like dark, twisted threads. As Jack's gaze lingered on the body, something felt off. A faint yet distinct realisation slowly crept in — the body wasn't human. The man had the unmistakable features of a wildren, a race known for their animal-like traits. His ears, sharp and cat-shaped, marked him as one of their kind, a stark contrast to the human-like appearance of his attire. The body's presence was both tragic and perplexing, a haunting reminder of the brutality of space.