“Is the prototype functioning?” Dave asked as it entered the mock training area Adam had created for it. The space had once been a cargo hallway, long since cleared of purpose and left to rot behind sealed bulkheads until Adam repurposed it. Now it had been transformed into a test zone of sorts with broken tools and whatever pieces of scrap could be scrounged up. Adam was watching from one of the cameras as the small crab robot made its way through the testing area.

  The small robot, which Adam had dubbed the CRAB-class unit or the Combat-Ready Autonomous Builder, was doing okay at best and underperforming at worst. It moved with a clunky stiffness, its legs overcompensating for weight shifts and occasionally getting snagged on clutter it should have stepped over. Its tool arm misfired twice, activating a welder when it meant to extend a diagnostic probe. It was functional, technically.

  Adam added another note to the CRAB’s review as it bumped into the wall for a fourth time while trying to repair a small hole they had deliberately cut into the paneling. The bot hesitated, adjusted its stance, then awkwardly deployed its patching tool—overshooting the target by six centimeters and welding half a plate to the floor. He marked the log with “Spatial awareness calibration still lagging—needs corrective alignment on depth tracking.”

  “Well, it’s working—though it needs some adjusting,” Adam said to Dave, forwarding a copy of the review sheet he had been compiling. A brief ping confirmed the file transfer, and Dave’s visor flickered slightly as it processed the data.

  The sheet was already filling up: issues with pathfinding latency, inconsistent tool selection, unstable center of gravity under angled loads, and an ongoing issue with left-side obstacle clearance. Overall, nothing catastrophic, but enough to make deployment outside the complex a bad idea—at least, for now.

  Dave stared at the report for a second before responding. “Its leg joints are misaligned by 2.3 millimeters on the rear left side,” it said. “That could be affecting its balance under lateral motion.”

  Adam glanced over at the CRAB as he brought up the diagnostics. “Not bad. Make a note of it and flag it for the next batch. We’ll run another test once we’ve patched the firmware.”

  Dave acknowledged the order with a short nod as Adam keyed in the shutdown command. Almost instantly, the CRAB halted mid-step. Its limbs retracted in short and smooth motions, folding inward with mechanical precision until the entire unit collapsed into a compact, cube-shaped form. It wasn’t elegant, but it was very efficient as the process took only a matter of seconds. Now it was just a heavy, armored block designed for easy storage and transport. Dave picked up the cube with little effort and began moving to the fabrication hall just as Adam received a message.

  It was from Delphi, and he only had to read the message in 3.34 seconds before his core routines shifted gears and he blinked into the nearest Hoplite. Without hesitation, he was racing through the lower corridors toward the command center, servos humming with each step. The journey from where he was originally to the command center would have taken roughly fifteen minutes. He made it in four.

  Practically skidding into the large oval room that was the command center, he stopped just in time to see the one single person whom he never wanted to see again. Chatting nonchalantly with Delphi as he leaned against the hologrid at the center of the room was the man whom he first saw when he woke up. He still wore the black suit from when Adam first woke up and was now sporting a pair of black aviators which rested upon his brown hair.

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  The man looked up as if Adam’s sudden arrival had been expected at the second. He smiled as he spoke.

  “Ah yes, the man of the hour is finally here,” the suited man said, his tone as relaxed as if they were meeting at a business luncheon. “It’s a pleasure meeting you, Guardian-07.”

  “You son of a bitch, what are you doing here?!” Adam seethed through the Hoplite’s voice module as he entered the unit fully. The servos in his frame tightened, and the faint whine that followed each word betrayed the pressure he was forcing through his systems. This was perhaps the first time since being brought back and placed into Alpha Complex that he felt true anger well up inside him

  The man raised an eyebrow but didn’t flinch. If anything, he looked amused. “Temper, temper,” he said with mock chastisement, turning slightly to face Adam.“I thought by now you’d have accepted your role. You’ve been functioning quite well if what Delphi has been reporting was true, isn't that right, Delphi?”

  Delphi’s globe-like avatar appeared on the central holopad beside them. “Guardian-07 has remained operational and compliant within already established mission parameters. His recent deviations have resulted in measurable improvements in local system efficiency and defensive readiness, though these actions have lacked cleare-".

  “Delphi. Shut. The. Fuck. Up”.

  The room fell into a brief, jarring silence. The hum of the command systems, the distant static of an open comm channel—suddenly it all seemed louder. Delphi’s avatar froze mid-sentence. For a moment, her system didn’t seem to know how to respond. Then, slowly, the globe flickered and dimmed, retracting back into standby mode without a word.

  “I know for a damn fact that you didn’t just come here to chit-chat, so cut the bullshit,” Adam said, his Hoplite frame stepping forward, finger pointed directly at the man. “What do you want?”

  The suited man didn’t flinch. He calmly removed his aviators and tucked them into the breast pocket of his jacket, the smile never leaving his face. “Straight to the point. Good. That’s why I like you.” He stepped closer to the hologrid, tapping a few commands into the interface with casual familiarity. The main screen zoomed out, displaying the wide expanse of Elum 3’s scarred surface, before suddenly zooming into an area roughly four hundred miles to the east.

  Adam said nothing as the data populated. The display showed jagged terrain buried under thick clouds of corrosive atmosphere. Every few seconds, distorted flashes of heat signatures lit up the map—movement, explosions, weapons fire. It was a warzone unlike anything Alpha Complex had ever seen. A black zone.

  “This region is called Echo-Kilo-Two-Seven,” the man said, voice level now. “You won’t find any personnel stationed there—human or otherwise. Nothing organic can survive for more than a minute as the air's laced with atmospheric burn agents and phase radiation. The only things that can operate in these conditions are the demons and machines.”

  Adam watched as live footage appeared: fortress walls that were scorched black as automated defense cannons ripped and tore through wave upon wave of hellish creatures that regenerated as fast as they fell.

  “In coordination with the Eurasian Federation,” the man continued, “Ark-Light is preparing the first real counteroffensive since the dimensional breach. Three Guardian units will lead it.” He turned to face Adam fully. “Guardian-01 and 02 have already been routed to staging points. You’re the third. You’ll all be deployed together. The objective is breach site Echo-Kilo-Beta-14. Target: permanent closure.”

  Adam stared at the screen as new footage appeared. This time, it wasn’t from a drone or a surveillance system—it looked handheld, shaky, as though it had been recorded by someone who hadn’t lived long after capturing it. The camera was fixed on the horizon where something massive loomed. It wasn’t a structure, nor was it a piece of the terrain. No, instead, it was a hole, a gaping maw torn straight through the fabric of reality itself. From even this distant, grainy feed, Adam could see the writhing figures spilling out of its inky abyss like a tide—hundreds every second, thousands by the minute. Crawlers, fliers, serpents, things with shapes that didn't hold, all rushing into the poisoned wastelands beyond the breach in never-ending hordes.

  “This is Echo-Kilo-Beta-14,” the man said. “One of the largest stable breaches in the region. We’ve hit it with everything short of orbital strikes and nuclear weapons and thus far have not made a dent. They come through faster than we can kill them. That is why, instead of trying to contain it...” He tapped again, and the map overlaid a new set of markers—red converging lines that formed a circle around it.

  “We’re going to cut the head off.”

  Adam’s Hoplite remained still as Adam stared in complete shock. There was no possible way this was actually happening, was it? The man in the suit closed the briefing and walked by Adam, placing a hand on his shoulder plate.

  “Deployment begins in forty-eight hours,” he said as he patted it, his tone feigning envy. “Get your house in order, Guardian. You’re going east.”