On the surface, the man's tone was biting, his words laced with a subtle accusation that my humans were the cause of this disadvantage.
It felt inherently unfair; the humans of this world had never participated in an apocalypse before. We were fresh, untainted by the system's cruelty, yet we were already being penalised for it.
Then, a realisation struck me like a physical blow. Other humans—humans from different worlds and different timelines—had participated.
What? Did other humans truly fail to win a single apocalypse before? The thought was staggering, nearly unbelievable. In the vast history of the cosmos, had my race been nothing more than fodder?
"Humans on other worlds refused to help us, that's what you mean, right?" I asked, my mind racing to connect the dots. I worked through the implications at high speed, finding this explanation to be the most logical one. We were isolated because those who came before us had failed to build a legacy.
