15,000,000 years ago.
The indigenous lifeforms of planet 01000100 01101111 01110101 01100011 01101000 01100101 01100010 01100001 01100111 have grown tired of the Precursors and their insistence on naming their planet "01000100 01101111 01110101 01100011 01101000 01100101 01100010 01100001 01100111." In their defense, naming a planet 01000100 01101111 01110101 01100011 01101000 01100101 01100010 01100001 01100111 was a bit of a dick move on the Precursor's part. The lifeforms, which can be equated in morphology to living mattresses, have organized a peaceful protest around the lone Precursor artifact on the planet. The artifact's design would be considered either extremely rude or extremely funny by modern human standards. As it is, the primates the Precursors would later frame as humanity's ancestors have no opinion on the matter, and are quite preoccupied trying to invent a banana-based RPG. Progress is slow.
Returning to the original subject, the mattress people of 01000100 01101111 01110101 01100011 01101000 01100101 01100010 01100001 01100111 have, by now, attracted the attention of the local Precursor, Olaf. Olaf is quite miffed at the distraction. He has been trying to convince the Precursor Council to seed a planet with microorganisms he reverse engineered from some fuzzy green stuff he found on a week-old pizza. The hope is that they will one day evolve into an 8-foot tall warrior race of reptiles with four jaws and an acute sense of honor. The request is processing, and Olaf is nervous. And a bunch of angry mattresses grumbling about how they can't have nice things at him isn't helping to relieve stress.
Finally, the Precursor has had enough. He goes down to the surface of 01000100 01101111 01110101 01100011 01101000 01100101 01100010 01100001 01100111 to see what all the fuss is about. The mattress people explain themselves and their complaint to him. Olaf says that he thinks 01000100 01101111 01110101 01100011 01101000 01100101 01100010 01100001 01100111 is a perfectly dignified name for a planet. The mattress people explain what 01000100 01101111 01110101 01100011 01101000 01100101 01100010 01100001 01100111 means in their language. Olaf agrees that that would be embarrassing. The mattress people ask him what he's going to do about it. Olaf says he'll file a report. They ask him what else he will do. Olaf snaps at them and says he'll do what he damn well pleases. They recoil in fear. Olaf apologizes and explains how he is under a lot of stress. They ask him why. He explains his plan. Most of the mattress people agree that it is a very good and awesome plan.
Most.
One of the mattress people in the back says that he thinks it's a stupid plan. Olaf hears him and asks the mattress person to repeat himself. The mattress person yells that it is a stupid plan. Olaf goes silent. He turns and walks quietly back onto his ship and leaves. An hour later, an unbending filament arrives and crushes 01000100 01101111 01110101 01100011 01101000 01100101 01100010 01100001 01100111 to dust. The mattress people are destroyed utterly. A pebble-sized piece of 01000100 01101111 01110101 01100011 01101000 01100101 01100010 01100001 01100111 and a car-sized piece of 01000100 01101111 01110101 01100011 01101000 01100101 01100010 01100001 01100111 survive and fly off into the void.
Elsewhere, 2560
John-117 stands on a cliff overlooking a green valley. His helmet is off, and the breeze tickles the skin on his cheeks. He closes his eyes and inhales deeply, breathing in the scent of pollen and rain. It is as peaceful a day as one could hope for.
In a sniper's nest in the valley, a Kig-Yar draws a bead on the Spartan with its Beam Rifle. It licks its teeth, savoring the moment when it, a "lowly Jackal", would be the one that kills The Demon.
John opens his eyes, looking at the sky. Two stars twinkle brightly above him. He frowns, realizing that it is not yet noon. They grow bigger. He squints, trying to see what they are.
A pebble-sized rock hits the Spartan right in the center of his forehead. He drops like a sack of potatoes just as a purple beam lances through the air where his head was. The Kig-Yar screeches in frustration, throwing down its gun and stomping on it. It stops when it hears a whistling noise. It looks around for the source. The noise gets louder, and the Kig-Yar looks up.
A car-sized meteor slams into the sniper's nest with the force of a MAC round.
About twenty minutes later, John stumbles to his feet, rubbing an apple-sized welt on his forehead. He stops when he sees that the green valley has gone black. A crater the size of a small lake lies at the center of the devastation. He blinks a few times. Then he puts on his helmet and he stomps back to the Pelican, grumbling about how he can't have nice things.