Rescue Han
For a hundred years, he battled against the heavens, consuming eight old bodies, erecting eight low graves, and burying eight versions of himself, yet all was in vain! In his moment of utter despair,
In the boundless darkness of the cosmos, the eternal sun still blazed with mad fervor, casting its light upon the nine planetary children that had encircled her for millions of years. Yet on her third child—Earth—not a single ray of light could be discerned. The spirits that once frolicked within her embrace—humanity—had vanished without a trace, not to mention those lesser creatures.
Once a sapphire gem, Earth's world now knew only darkness and death; these were its defining themes.
If anything remained to bestow a semblance of "life" upon this planet, it was only the three humanoid "moving" beings wielding gigantic axes, laboriously hacking at celestial debris high above—over thirty thousand meters in the sky.
Why not simply call them humans?
Because, no matter how mighty or tall, no human could match even one percent of their size. The axes they brandished had handles as thick as six meters and stretched over a hundred meters in length—far beyond normal human proportions by a thousandfold.
They were called "moving" things for a reason, too.
Their bodies were an almost grotesque assembly of cold steel and soft flesh, jarringly incompatible. In the upper reaches of the atmosphere, amidst vast layers of planetary debris, their movements were slow, but still far surpassed anything possible for carbon-based life. Thus, the term "moving" was but a placeholder for their identity.
Each swing of their axes reduced dozens of cubic meters of debris to dust.
Such labor was truly awe-inspi