Immortality once ushered in an era of boundless prosperity for Philos. Yet, even eternity could not shield its people from the stagnation born of unchecked desire. When time ceased to be a limitation, the once-great civilization drifted toward inevitable decay.
Beyond the opulent capital and its immediate surroundings—where the privileged clung desperately to their lavish lifestyles—Philos lay in ruin. The remnants of advanced technology littered the land, rusting monuments to a forgotten past. Some still functioned. Most had simply been abandoned, their purpose lost to time.
The Philosians yearned for their former glory, but all they found was the bitter truth of decline. The ruling elite of the Central District tightened their grip through relentless surveillance, weaving an illusion of grandeur. Yet, those who strayed beyond the heart of the empire saw the truth: a world on the brink, fractured and fading.
Conflict raged ceaselessly, the land scarred by endless war. The regime, desperate to maintain its crumbling dominion, turned to devastation.
Among the rebel factions, a whisper spread like wildfire—a single fragment of intelligence that sent chills through those who opposed the ruling class. The true enforcer of the regime's will, the weapon that had silenced countless uprisings, was no mere machine of war.
It was a modified combat entity.
Designated: A-01.
—From The Fall of the Philosian Civilization.