2026-03-31 08:22:46"Is that a throne or a pile of junk, Arix?" Pip asked, staring at the heap of broken droids I had stacked in the center of the mess hall.
"It's both, Pip," I said, leaning back against a dented metal chest plate. "Sit down. The show is about to start."
"The inmates are staring," Pip whispered. "They’ve never seen anyone sit in the middle of the hall like this. Not even Brux."
"Brux sat at the royal table because he wanted to be a king," I said. "I’m sitting here because I want them to see what happens to the things that try to cage me."
"You’re insane, Princey," Brux muttered from the floor. He was still kneeling at the base of my scrap pile, his head bowed. "The Warden won't let this last. You’re occupying the main hub. That’s a death sentence."
"He's already tried to kill me three times today, Brux," I said. "He’s running out of ideas."
"He isn't out of ideas yet," a voice boomed from the overhead speakers. "Prisoner 9042. Arix Beaumont. You have ten seconds to vacate the mess hall and return to your cell."
"And if I don't?" I yelled back, looking up at the black camera domes.
"Then we stop being polite," the Warden’s voice crackled. "Level 2 Executioner deployed. Sector 4 is now a Free-Fire Zone."
The heavy blast doors at the far end of the hall groaned. A massive machine, easily twelve feet tall, stepped into the room.
It wasn't a droid. It was a cyborg, covered in thick plates of black armor and carrying a humming energy scythe.
"That's a Level 2?" Pip squeaked, ducking behind my chair. "Arix, we have to run!"
"No," I said. "We’ve done enough running."
"Target locked," the Executioner said, its voice a deep growl. "Arix Beaumont. Preparation for termination."
"Wait!" I shouted, standing up on the pile of scrap. "Before you swing that thing, don't you want to know why your boss is so eager to kill me?"
"Orders are absolute," the Executioner replied. The floor tiles cracked under its weight.
"Orders are based on secrets," I said. "System, initiate Information Control. Wide-range broadcast. Every screen in the block. Now."
"What are you doing?" Brux asked, looking up in terror.
"I'm opening the books, Brux," I said.
Suddenly, every holographic menu and display screen in the mess hall flickered. The prison schedules disappeared. In their place, a long list of numbers and names began to scroll.
"What is that?" An inmate shouted, pointing at the nearest screen. "Is that the ration log?"
"Look at the dates!" Another screamed. "The Warden has been reporting that we get three meals a day. We haven't seen a full tray in six months!"
"He's stealing from us!" A third man roared, slamming his fist on a table. "He’s selling our protein bars to the High Fantasy Wing for credits!"
"It’s all right there," I yelled, my voice carrying over the rising noise. "The private corruption logs. Every credit he took. Every child he starved to build his villa."
"Lies!" The Warden screamed over the speakers. "That’s a hack! Executioner, kill him now! Kill everyone in that room if you have to!"
The Executioner raised its scythe, the blade glowing red. "Commencing purge."
"Hey, metal-head!" An inmate yelled, throwing a heavy metal tray at the cyborg’s head. "The Warden didn't pay for that armor! He stole it from our sweat!
"Kill the Warden!" Another inmate screamed. "Kill the thief!"
"Not the machine," I said, looking at the crowd. "The gate. The Warden is behind the gate."
"He’s right!" A man shouted. "If we take the gate, we take the food!"
The mess hall erupted. Five hundred men charged. They didn't run away from the Executioner; they ran through it.
They swarmed the machine like ants, tearing at its wires and jamming metal pipes into its joints.
"Get back!" The Executioner droned, trying to swing its scythe. "Stop!"
"Tear it down!" The prisoners screamed.
"Arix, the riot is starting!" Pip yelled, grabbing my arm. "The guards are going to use gas!"
"System, seal the ventilation," I commanded. "Keep the air in here. Push the gas back into the guard towers."
[Command Accepted. Redirecting Vents.]
A series of muffled explosions echoed from the walls. I could hear the guards coughing and screaming behind the reinforced glass.
"You’re a devil, Princey," Brux whispered, watching the chaos. "You’ve started a war."
"I didn't start it," I said, stepping down from my throne. "I'm just finishing it."
The Executioner fell. The massive machine hit the floor with a crash that shook the entire hall. The inmates didn't stop.
They used the cyborg's own limbs as battering rams, charging toward the primary gate of Sector 4.
"It's opening!" An inmate cried. "The locks are failing!"
The heavy steel doors began to slide back. Beyond them lay the bridge to the High Fantasy Wing.
"We did it!" Pip cheered. "The block is ours!"
"The block is just a room, Pip," I said.
I walked through the screaming crowd. People moved out of my way as if I were a ghost. They were afraid of me now.
Even in their rage, they didn't want to touch the man who could make the walls talk.
I reached the threshold of the gate. I stood there, perfectly calm, while the world behind me burned. Brux followed me, limping and pale.
"Where are you going?" Brux asked. "You could rule the Scrap Heap for years."
I didn't look at him. I looked across the bridge. I could see the tall, white spires of the High Fantasy Wing.
"I didn't come here to rule a garbage can, Brux," I said.
"Then what do you want?" He asked.
I raised my hand and pointed toward the white towers. The golden screen in my eyes flared.
"Next," I said.
"You’re going to the High Wing?" Brux gasped. "With an army of scavengers? They’ll slaughter you!"
"Let them try," I said. "The System just gave me the keys to their front door."
A massive horn sounded from the towers, a deep note that made the air vibrate. The bridge began to extend, its stones glowing with mana.
"Are you coming?" I asked, looking back at the inmates.
"To the end, Warden!" The men roared.
I stepped onto the bridge, the first piece of "trash" to set foot on the royal path.
"Arix, wait!" Pip called out, running to catch up. "The System is blinking red again!"
"What does it say?" I asked.
[Warning: Level 9 Paladin Guard Incoming.]
"Perfect," I whispered, a smirk forming on my face. "I've been wanting a new suit of armor."
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Chapter 41: Ghost Protocol
I frantically opened the quarantine log, my bloody fingers flying across the cracked keyboard. The shards of broken glass bit deep into my left palm with every keystroke, but I didn't slow down. I kept pressing the input keys, forcing the terminal to accept the command lines. My left hand was slick with blood, leaving thick, greasy smears across the plastic casing and the functional buttons.I didn't care about the cuts or the grease. I just needed the buried folder to open before the core loop timed out. "Come on," I muttered, slamming the heel of my palm against the frame. "Open up for me."The terminal gave a loud beep that rattled the loose wiring beneath the board. The golden border of the standard system interface began to warp and bend, the color bleeding out from the edges of the display.It shifted from the bright corporate gold to a deep blue. The new light filled the small room, reflecting off the shattered fragments of the screen and casting long, pale shadows across Pip’
Chapter 40: Alone in the Dark
I slid down the front of the main terminal box and sat heavily on the floor. The metal grating was freezing against my legs, the chill cutting straight through my torn uniform trousers. Damian’s footsteps had completely faded down the corridor, and Lyra’s departure had left the room entirely hollow. The quietness inside the control room felt like a heavy weight pressing against my ears, thick and suffocating. There was no sound left in the world except the mechanical air pushing through the overhead vents."Get up," I muttered to myself. My legs didn't move and I looked down at my right arm. It was blackened and raw from the wrist to the shoulder, and the synthetic fabric of my tactical jacket had melted directly into the scorched skin. I didn't feel the sharp pain anymore; my nerves were fried. I just felt a deep ache that went straight to my bones.[System: Warning. Core Stability at 14%. Physical Overload Detected.]A flash of green light split my vision right down the middle, m
Chapter 39: The Fallout
The fresh air kept rushing through the overhead vents, blowing the last of the smoke out into the night. It felt clean in my mouth, but the room was freezing. The atmosphere felt colder than death. I let go of the yellow manual lever and stood there, my left hand numb and my right arm hanging loose like an old piece of wood. "Pip," Lyra said.She dropped heavily back onto her knees next to Pip, her boots sliding against a loose bolt on the floor plate. She didn't look at the console or the green text. She just pulled off her thick, dirty gloves with her teeth and threw them down on the metal deck."Lyra," I called out, but she didn't answer me. She pressed two fingers against the side of Pip’s neck, right where the gray scar tissue had settled over his veins. She held them there for five seconds. Then she moved her fingers to his wrist, pressing down hard on the small bone."Is he back?" Damian asked. He stepped away from the door frame, his rifle barrel lowering toward the floor. H
Chapter 38: The Ultimate Choice
The red countdown timer on the central console dropped past twenty seconds. The numbers glared against the dusty glass, casting a dull light over the metal panels. On the lower section of the screen, the main map of the Fantasy Wing was flashing with row after row of yellow warnings."Arix, don't do it!" Lyra screamed. She was still on her knees on the cold floor, her fingers dug deep into the coarse fabric of Pip’s jacket sleeve. She looked up at me, her face pale under the grime and grease. "Save Pip! We can find another way for the air! We can go back down and break the valves manually! We have time!""We don't have time, Lyra," I said. My left hand remained locked around the yellow steel handle of the manual override lever. The metal felt cold and greasy against my palm."Listen to her, Arix!" Lyra cried, her voice cracking as she shook Pip’s shoulder. Pip’s legs twitched against the floor grating, his boots making a light scratching noise. "He's just a boy. Look at him! We can f
Chapter 37: The Soul-Virus
Pip seized violently, his boots slamming against the hard metal floor grating. His hands locked into tight claws, and his eyes rolled back until only the whites were showing. Underneath his skin, along the side of his neck, a glowing black code began to spread outward from the entry wound, crawling along his veins like ink."Pip!" Lyra screamed. She didn't hesitate.She raised her staff with both hands, pointing the iron tip directly at the assassin’s helmet. A sharp bolt of blue force shot out from the crystal, striking the matte-black visor. The armor cracked, and the stealth soldier fell backward against the server rack, dropping his weapon as he hit the deck. He didn't move again. "Is he down?" Damian shouted, spinning around from the door frame with his rifle raised. "What happened?""He stabbed Pip," Lyra said. She dropped her staff and fell down next to the boy. "He stabbed him in the neck!"I rushed to Pip, my boots dragging against the loose bolts on the floor. My right arm
Chapter 36: The Inner Sanctum
The heavy blast door to the control room groaned under the force of the blast and flew completely off its hinges, slamming onto the floor inside the room with a loud clatter. The metal plate skidded five feet across the polished floor before stopping. I stumbled through the thick smoke, my left shoulder hitting the warped frame as I forced my legs to keep moving."Get in," I said. My throat felt like sand, and my right arm dragged behind me like a useless piece of log. "Pip, Lyra, get inside now. Don't look back."Lyra came through right behind me, her boots scraping against the loose bolts on the floor. She was holding her staff with both hands, using it to prop herself up. Her skin looked gray under the dust, and her lips were cracked and bleeding from the pressure drop."I'm in," Pip wheezed. He fell down onto his knees right past the threshold, coughing hard. He had his equipment bag clutched against his ribs. "The air in here is old, it's not running. It feels like I'm breathin
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