[ERROR: Orbital Mass Integration Complete. Core Functions Stabilizing. Reboot Initiated. Estimated Completion: 03:00:00] The holographic message seared across Zaydun’s vision, blocking out the cloaked zealots for a second. His newfound indestructible frame felt… odd. Not weak, but distant, like a powerful engine sputtering before roaring to life. He couldn’t access any of his abilities, not even his basic scanning routines. The cosmic core’s raw power was still integrating, locking him out of his own upgrades. “Perfect timing, you glorified calculator,” Zaydun muttered, his voice low enough that only Inaya heard him. He gripped her arm, steering her deeper into the oppressive gloom of the cavern. The air bit at her lungs, thick with the tang of ozone and spent fuel. She coughed again, a harsh, ragged sound. “Where are we going, Zaydun? They’re everywhere!” Inaya hissed, her sidearm humming faintly, a desperate comfort against the encroaching zealots. Their chant was louder now, closer. “Wherever they aren’t. My HUD is cycling, I’m running on fumes. We need cover, and fast.” He guided her behind a towering pile of corroded durasteel beams, relics of a forgotten industrial age. The red light pulsing from their crude implants cast warped shadows across the cavern floor. [WARNING: Core Functions Operating at 12%. Advanced Capabilities Offline. Evasion Protocols Engaged.] Zaydun pressed himself against the cold metal, tucking Inaya close, shielding her with his bulk. The hum of unseen machinery intensified, a rhythmic pulse beneath the chanting. “Gods, this place stinks,” Inaya muttered under her breath, leaning heavily against him, her usual fierce posture wilted by the toxic air and the harrowing escape. “Complaints department is currently closed due to overwhelming dread-beast activity,” Zaydun retorted, his eyes darting through the gaps in the scrap metal. He could hear their shuffling footsteps, the scrape of their crude weapons. “Just hold still. They’ll pass.” But they didn’t pass. One brute, larger than the rest, with an oversized iron arm, stopped directly in front of their hiding spot. Its head, partially replaced by a gleaming, unpolished metal plate, slowly swiveled. Zaydun held his breath. Inaya’s hand, resting on his arm, trembled. “The texts spoke of this place, the Slag-Pits,” Inaya murmured, her tone tight with revulsion. “A forgotten hellhole where the city dumps its failures.” “Seems fitting for us, then,” Zaydun quipped, though his usual bravado was strained. He could feel the lack of his full abilities, the absence of his augmented strength. He was a slab of cosmic metal, but a very inert one at the moment. The scavenger grunted, a low, mechanical rasp, and then turned away, heavy footsteps fading into the distance. Zaydun waited, counting to fifty, before slowly easing away from the durasteel. He peered out. The robed scavengers moved deeper into the labyrinthine tunnels, their chant receding. “Okay, we’re clear for now,” Zaydun said, releasing Inaya. She stumbled, clutching her chest, her face pale. “I… I can’t breathe this air much longer,” she gasped, her eyes watering. “My core, it’s… it’s reacting badly.” Zaydun looked at her, really looked at her. Her hair was matted with grime, her once pristine Plasma Striker uniform torn and stained. She looked utterly vulnerable, a stark contrast to the arrogant, high-tier warrior he’d always known. “Hey,” he said, his voice surprisingly soft. “We’ll get out of here. I promise. Just… hang on.” Inaya met his gaze, and for the first time, the icy contempt that usually resided there was gone, replaced by something raw and exposed. “You know,” she began, her voice barely a whisper, “that day, at the engagement party… I never wanted to annul it.” Zaydun froze. “What?” “My old man.” She coughed, a desperate, racking sound. “He threatened me. Said if I didn’t, if I went through with marrying a Librarian, he’d… he’d have my striker core stripped. Said I’d be exiled, a non-person. All my years of training, all my rank, gone. He claimed it was the only way to save the family name from utter ruin.” Her voice cracked, tears finally spilling down her grimy cheeks. Zaydun stared. He’d always assumed she was just as disgusted by him as the patriarch was. “It’s pathetic, isn’t it?” she continued, a bitter laugh escaping her. “The great Inaya, the high-tier Plasma Striker, brought to her knees by a threat. And then you… you just grabbed the to-go box. You didn’t care. You didn’t care what anyone thought. That’s what I always envied, Zaydun. Your absolute, unshakeable shamelessness. Your greed. It makes you… free.” She looked up at him, her eyes wide and wet, reflecting the dim, toxic light. The air hung stagnant between them, thick with raw confession and years of resentment. For a moment, the stench of the Slag-Pits, the prowling zealots, the cynical pings of his HUD – all faded. There was only the raw honesty in her gaze, and a flicker of something he couldn’t quite name, something that pulled him closer. His eyes dropped to her lips, parted slightly, glistening. He leaned in. Her chest rose and fell in short, ragged bursts, but she didn’t pull away. The gap between them shrank to inches, then millimeters. [MANDATORY BOOT-UP SEQUENCE COMPLETE. CORE FUNCTIONS ONLINE. NEW ABILITY UNLOCKED: TERRAFORMER’S GAZE. SYSTEM SCANNING ENVIRONMENT…] [WARNING: MASSIVE NON-ORGANIC METAL SIGNATURES DETECTED. MULTIPLE ORBITAL-CLASS PROJECTILES DETECTED. SOURCE: LOCALIZED.] The cold chime of the system ripped through the air, breaking the spell. Zaydun cursed, stepping back abruptly. The holographic overlay now pulsed with a new urgency, a massive red arrow pointing down a narrow, darkened shaft. “What now?” Inaya gasped, her cheeks flushed, stepping back as well, fingers darting to her holster. “Looks like my glorious inner calculator found something more interesting than our… sentimental exchange,” Zaydun grumbled, though a part of him felt a sharp, unexpected disappointment. He looked at the direction the arrow indicated. “Something big.” They moved, carefully, deeper into the abyssal underbelly of the Undercity. The air grew hotter, the hum of machinery louder, more purposeful. The faint crimson glow of scrap implants yielded to sterile, searing white light emanating from below. Following the shaft, they found themselves on a precarious walkway, overlooking an immense, cavernous space. It was a factory, stretching further than the eye could see. But it wasn’t just any factory. Massive, segmented hulls, glowing with an ominous crimson internal light, moved along automated assembly lines. Towering robotic arms welded plates of raw cosmic metal into spherical shapes. Each one, unmistakably, was a dread-meteor. Tarak wasn't just summoning beasts; he was manufacturing the very orbital disasters that ravaged the city, farming the perfect vessel for his twisted immortality. “He’s… he’s making them,” Inaya said, tone hollow with horror, eyes fixed on the assembly line of apocalyptic weapons. “The city thought they were random breaches. He’s *making* them.” Her gaze drifted, sweeping across the vast expanse, until it landed on a glowing data terminal embedded in a support pillar near the walkway. She scrambled towards it, ignoring Zaydun’s warning grunt. Her fingers flew across the antiquated console, hacking past its basic security protocols with practiced ease. A ledger materialized, listing funding allocations, material requisitions, and operational clearances. Inaya’s eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat. Her face drained of all color, leaving her paler than the caustic fumes. Her finger trembled, pointing at a name emblazoned in bold, black text, signed at the bottom of the funding ledger. “Father. It’s… it’s Father’s signature.”signature.”

Slag-Pit Confessions