We once thought that a civilization that conquered gravity would conquer the shackles of the universe.
When the roar of the anti-gravity engine tears apart the silence of the solar system, the material conversion furnace kneads the planets into the shapes we want. On the first great exploration, we opened our arms to embrace the starry sky, only to find that there was nothing in our arms - the Milky Way seemed like a stage prepared only for us.
So we danced, demarcated territories with steel and sparks, and gave human surnames to the five-hundred-light-year starry sky. We believe this is the right of evolution and the reward that the lonely deserve.
Until he met an ancient alliance composed of 472 scarred civilizations. Deep in the eyes of each civilization, the same nightmare from 30,000 years ago was branded. They looked at us - this group of children who broke into the garden with the authority of God - there was no welcome in their eyes, only cold measurement and freshly remembered fear.
The friction started from a mineral star, but quickly turned into a war of faith. We say this is survival, they say this is reincarnation. We say bring order, they say bring destruction.
The snap of chains was heard across the galaxy as our warships awoke the ancient sentinel known as the Gravekeeper. Its void scythe once harvested the galaxy, and its database is filled with epitaphs of glorious civilizations.
It looks at us like another sample in a file about to be filed away.
At this moment, human civilization stands at the crossroads of destiny:
On one side is a held-up torch, convinced that he is the only light in the darkness.
On one side is an endless abyss, reflecting the monsters we might become.
Concept: What will technology bring?