With a sharp mechanical buzz, his right arm twisted mid-air and shifted—his fingers flattening and fusing into a sharp blade. He brought it down hard against the worm's body in one clean motion. Its flesh, soft and rubbery, sizzled as the blade tore into its flesh.
Green fluid sprayed from the cut, coating his arm and sizzling faintly against his metal skin. The worm squealed—a high-pitched, rattling noise that echoed across the plain, then writhed violently, pulling back in pain, It flung him aside in reaction.
Primal landed on his side and rolled into a crouch. One of his legs dragged, malfunctioning from the earlier slam. Its servos buzzed weakly.
The worm lashed again, his functional leg locked and activated a burst propeller, sending him up and over the beast in a controlled arc narrowly avoiding the creature's strike. He landed on his knees, stabilized, then pushed off again.
He sprinted directly toward the worm. Its large, red mouth opened fully, revealing concentric rings of razor teeth as it screeched in rage. Primal dropped low, sliding beneath the attack. As he passed under, his right arm extended into a blade-arm then he plunged it deep into the creature. He drove it deep into the worm's underbelly. Another squeal. More green fluid.
In seconds, Primal grabbed the creature and clung to its side, his functioning leg turned to a claw that locked him in place. The worm thrashed violently, trying to shake him loose, twisting and coiling. It slammed into the dirt, crushing shrubs and disturbing clouds of dust. Primal adjusted his grip, climbing up its writhing body. With each movement, he drove another blade into its flesh to secure his ascent. He had finally got to the darker part of the worm—behind the head, when he retracted the blade arm and shifted it to a saw.
He began to cut.
The blade whirred with increasing speed, biting into flesh and sinew. The creature screamed, bucking and slamming into a nearby rock face, It bled heavily from its neck and its movements slower. The worm twitched violently, It screamed ... then fell still.
It slumped sideways, half of its body still partially submerged in the earth. Steam hissed from its wounds and fell on the soil around it. It soaked the soil with green fluid.
Primal stood over the creature, systems whirring and sputtering. His internal alerts blinked steadily "Damage to external plating 36%, left arm 78% compromised, energy core stable. The blade retracted, "Lifeform status, neutralized."
Silence returned. The dust began to settle.
Then came movement.
From beneath nearby rocks and bushes, dozens of small creatures emerged. At first, just one, then five. Then dozens. They moved in tight formations marching towards the worm's corpse.
He turned, sensors sharpening as he scanned the creatures.
They looked like ants, but not exactly. Their carapaces shimmered like dark amber and they walked on six thick legs, each ending in hooked claws, its antennae twitching. Their heads were oversized, eyes large, and two curved mandibles clicked softly as they sniffed the air.
They were nearly up to his thigh.
Still scanning, one of them broke off from the group, crawling directly toward him. He didn't wait, his functioning arm turned into an arrow and he took the shot aimed at the creature in his path. The ant collapsed with a crunch.
But the others didn't react.
They streamed past him—ignoring his presence entirely—and began to feed. Their mandibles opened, and they tore into the worm with shocking efficiency. The sound of splitting flesh and crunching bone filled the air. They didn't fight. They didn't even communicate. They simply fed.
Primal paused, reassessing, "Aggression status confirmed, non-hostile. Threat level negligible. Designation, Unit-Terah, Formic-Alpha".
He turned his gaze to the one he'd killed. Its body leaked orange fluid.
He said nothing. There was no remorse. Only data.
Suddenly, he then fell flat on the ground because of his broken leg. The lower half of his left leg was gone, torn off in the fight and now smoking somewhere behind a rock. Wires sparked, panels along his chest slid open. A faint grey mist escaped.
A soft whirr sounded from his ruined leg which automatically initiated internal repair. Metal flowed—like liquid silver—crawling down the stub of his leg. It hissed as it touched air, forming angles, hardening.
A new foot clicked into shape, then the arms. He repaired his whole body like it was part of his design.
Primal stood fully upright.
A faint breeze passed through the battlefield. The grass that had flattened from the earlier impact began to rise again. The world around him settled. The ants continued feeding, indifferent.
He looked toward the horizon. Staring at it, he saw distant hills and low valleys. Vegetation clustered there—darker green, thicker atmosphere.
He recorded it all. Primal's memory bar on his chest glowed blue as he scanned his environment. This was how he archived all his explorations across the galaxies.
He took one final look at the dead worm and the ants that now consumed it before taking a step, then two, then more. Each step registered feedback from the soil. Temperature. Moisture. Density. Biological trace detection. He then said, "Exploration path set, Western Quadrant. Primary objective, catalogue Terah. Secondary objective, survival."
He didn't wait.
This planet had revealed its first hostility. Now, Primal would uncover the rest.
One region at a time.