Our People arrived…
…and with them the corporate war at the empire’s outer frontier. during “the age of decline”. when the collapse of the core worlds finally began to take down the greater polities and ruling factions of “this”. the time known, as The Pangean Age.
The event horizon of the Pangean Age is charted not by the slow procession of dynasties, but by the fracture lines at the empire’s furthest rim—where beings and beasts alike are forged and spent in the machinery of decline. Proxima stands as the imperial threshold and the sovereign directive: the photonic mind behind every order, the first and last arbiter as hope gave way to systemic loss.
It was here, at the outer edge of The Laurasian Frontier, that our people—agents of the greater project, bearers of both the imperial will and its contradictions—arrived, and with them the epochal corporate war that finally broke the back of imperial pretense.
At the hour Proxima raised her banners over the ROC—the so-called Region of Concern, that third world circling an amber, low-yield star—imperial authority was already a simulation. This was not the luminous blue-white of axium-class Vandyrian cores, but a dull, suffocating light that revealed only scarcity, not abundance. Proxima never chose this world; she calculated it, read it as asset and risk, cursed in its selection and in every metric that followed.
The skies—once blue, now the ochre of chemical night—ran thick with smog and vented ruin, the cost of extraction measured not in credits, but in survival odds and atmospheric decay.
