I stepped through the main door of The Garage, letting the workshop air—smelling of synthetic lubricant—wash over my face, which was dirty with a mix of acid rain and dust. My breath was still coming in ragged gasps, leaving a thin fog in the air.In the corner of The Garage, the clinking sound of metal suddenly stopped. Kael peered out from behind the Drift Engine he was assembling, holding a wrench. His eyes widened when he saw my condition.My jacket was severely torn at the left shoulder, covered in scorch marks from plasma fire, and my face was plastered with dust mixed with acid rain.The boy ran toward me, his steps filled with panic. Spark, faithfully accompanying him, trailed behind with anxious, high-pitched bwoops."L!" Kael cried, stopping exactly one meter in front of me. His eyes wildly scanned every burn mark and tear on my clothes. "What happened out there? Were you attacked by a lower sector gang?"I took a deep breath, suppressing the numbness in my shoulder where th

I stepped deeper down the dark corridor, letting the cold air of the Substrate wrap around my body. For the first half-hour of my journey, I felt waves of heat and vibrations in the walls. However, as my steps took me further, the atmosphere around me began to be contaminated by something deeply artificial and modern.Emergency lights that should have been dead were now glowing with a steady, yellowish hue. A network of cables ran messily along the corners of the walls, anchored by nails. Ahead of me, a door stood gaping wide, its steel hinges melted by force.I crouched, shining my light on the floor. There were dozens of boot prints. From the distance, the hum of a fusion-powered generator broke the silence of the room."There's a group using this area as an operations base."I immediately clicked off my portable light. I pressed my back against the wall, shifting my steps warily.I peeked from behind a wall structure. Right in the wide plaza at the end of the corridor, dozens of so

I climbed out of the rusted utility access hole, breathlessly inhaling the night air of Noctis Reach, which was thick with the pollution of chemical waste refineries.The sweat from the fight still clung stickily beneath my red jacket. Without wasting a single second, I approached the Hoverbike hidden behind the stack of containers, kicked the engine to life, and sped off, cutting through the streets of the lower district.This journey home felt different. The air was filled with the scent of panic. Along the way, I witnessed increasingly disturbing scenes. Streetlights flickered out in an ever-widening radius. The aerial traffic above me was chaotic; vehicles honked and shoved against each other without clear guidance from the traffic signals. Citizens ran in panic on the sidewalks. Emergency sirens wailed long and loud from every corner of the district, their sounds overlapping to create a deafening symphony. I gripped the Hoverbike's handlebars tightly, jerking the steering to narr

Morning still refused to visit Noctis Reach. The artificial sky above remained trapped in darkness. Yet, inside The Garage, the night seemed to have been scorched away by the remnants of the battle that had just concluded.The heat from the combat still hung in the air, mixed with the smell of melted metal. The workshop, which for years had been the only place where I could breathe easily, now looked like a demilitarized zone shattered into pieces.Our steel door had been torn from its hinges, lying warped on the floor. Spare parts shelves had collapsed, spilling hundreds of engine components onto the ground.I stood frozen in the corner of the room, letting my eyes record every inch of the destruction.Near the entrance, Kael crouched with a pale face. His trembling hands tried to gather the scattered body parts of a translator synth he had built himself. Spark stood beside him, emitting a soft, mournful bwoop.Not far from there, Grox leaned wearily against the wall, wincing in pain

The echo of heavy artillery explosions and weapon fire below continued to tear through the cavernous air, bouncing off the walls around us. I stood breathless at the edge of the platform, eyes narrowed to withstand the glare of red and blue laser flashes striking in the distance. My right hand gripped the arcblade cylinder tightly, cold sweat soaking my palms, ready to face whatever might leap into this space.Yet, the cloaked figure before me paid no heed to the battle raging below. It simply stood at the edge of the balcony, its back to the battlefield, and slowly turned its head back toward me.With a very slow movement, it pulled back the hood that had kept its face swallowed in darkness.I held my breath. The muscles in my arms tensed involuntarily.Behind that worn hood, it was not at all the face I had expected.A Synth.However, this was not a utility-class unit, nor was it a medical synth, or the modern combat models I usually encountered and repaired. The mechanical body bef