If anything, the discovery of what their marks meant had made humanity bold.

A dig in Greece, of all places, had turned up the equivalent of a second Rosetta Stone, allowing for translation of an ancient long forgotten language and thus, the marks every human now bore on their arms.

After the rapture, humanity had basically just milled around in small towns, abandoning the larger cities in search of more manageable resources. Keeping the power on for a small town was easier than figuring out city grids and those towns usually had nearby water, the land required for growing food and wildlife to hunt.

But now, almost 300 years later, with a substantially larger population, they were returning to the cities in droves. Those that had stayed in the cities - in hospitals, hardware stores and the like - were not altogether welcoming, but a shared goal as big as this was enough to convince them to let others in. Especially when the others brought fresh livestock like cattle, chickens and sheep.

The ambition now was to record history and to create it. The long obsolete space programs were re-ignited and globally, every country began to organise armies.

There had been a lazy peace, with 4/5ths of the population gone. More than enough resources for those who survived. Each community largely policing itself without the rules that had previously prevented them from say, killing a rapist or pedophile. Life was safer in a number of ways. Although getting hurt badly was effectively a death sentence without the infrastructure to support a full medical staff. Passionate people pursued their passions undisturbed. Progress ground to a standstill and education was just maintained. The most valued skills now were practical over intellectual.

However now humanity knew they weren’t alone. They understood at least some of the language of the creatures that had done this to them. And the thought that there was no point in killing them had rallied them back into their previously held notions that they were powerful. In control. Indestructible. They were angry for their ancestors. For the lives they might have been able to live. But mostly, humanity was indignant. Who exactly thought they could harvest HUMANS? And just walk away like it was nothing?

The space race was on, and not just by way of shuttles. Humanity collaborated and bickered and toiled. They referenced old sci fi shows for inspiration. What they had lost they clawed back, and the world surged back into an era of progress. They stayed QUIET. They studied, they learnt, they bred. The untied globally, and agreed against war. They had just one battle in mind. One really big battle.

For the next five hundred years humanity refused to leave its own galaxy. Even when they were entirely capable of it. Even when their weapons could obliterate everything in its path, even when their shields could block everything, or contain nuclear blasts. Even when every scouting mission came back safe. Even when every indication was that they were ready, humanity toiled for more.

They had lived for thousands of years without anything like this, so they felt they should have thousands of years more. But the thought these god like aliens could return any time drove them. They would not be satisfied until they were their own gods. Until they could find them with their scouts and go undetected. Until they could learn their weaknesses fully.

They would not be satisfied until they could send a message back to the aliens in their own language. We are coming.