The underground chamber buzzed with movement and ideas, the air thick with heat, sweat, and possibility.
Luma stood in the center, arms crossed, as a large sheet of paper covered in chaotic sketches was rolled out on a rusted table. It was held down by rocks, gauntlet parts, and what looked like a half-melted toaster. Resistance engineers swarmed around, excited and slightly panicked.
Ion leaned over Luma's shoulder and whispered, "Nothing says high science like coffee stains and charred breakfast appliances."
Luma muttered, "If this saves the world, I'll never question your 'field kitchen physics' again."
Toma slapped the table.
"Alright!" he barked. "Here it is—our shot. The Entropy Engine's interference field fluctuates at semi-predictable intervals. If we generate a counter-field with just the right resonance…"
Cassel finished, "We can neutralize its distortion. Temporarily."
Ion blinked. "Wait, you're syncing phase fields with… what's this part?"
Toma pointed to the doodle of a person running on a treadmill.
"Human motion," he grinned. "We turn our own kinetic energy into patterned pulses. A field powered by movement."
Luma raised an eyebrow. "You're going to defeat chaos… with cardio?"
The group burst into laughter. For a moment, the room felt like a college dorm instead of the heart of a rebellion.
Science Focus: Energy Transfer from Human Motion
Ion stepped forward, eyes narrowing in serious intrigue. "You're applying biomechanical feedback—each step, swing, or jump generates microbursts of energy. Like those dance floors that light up underfoot."
Toma nodded. "Except instead of neon lights, we're stabilizing reality. Every motion contributes to an interference net that opposes the Engine's signal."
He pointed to a circular ring-like device. "We call these Field Resonators. They pick up movement and convert it into wave pulses—think of them like mini reality harmonizers."
Luma poked at one. "Why does this one smell like burnt rubber?"
Cassel shrugged. "Prototype three… caught on fire during a combat roll demo."
Training began.
Luma was reluctantly volunteered as the test subject.
"You've got the strongest physical rhythm," Cassel said. "Your gauntlet movements already follow harmonic patterns."
"I'm not a conductor," she said.
"You are now," Toma winked.
They fitted her in a lightweight harness, small resonators attached along her limbs. Each movement she made sent faint pulses into the surrounding receivers, which blinked or buzzed in strange musical tones.
Ion called out, "Swing the arm—no, don't floss! You're interfering with gravity!"
"I'm trying!" Luma shouted, half-laughing as her left leg lifted involuntarily.
A pebble near her spun upward and froze midair, orbiting her elbow like a confused satellite.
"Hey! That's progress!" Cassel cheered. "That's a stable eddy!"
"An elbow eddy, huh?" Luma grinned, half in awe, half in exhaustion.
That night, they huddled around a fading campfire.
The first prototype had stabilized a 3-meter radius for nearly 8 full seconds—a massive success.
Ion handed Luma a steaming mug. "You made a waveform dance, you know."
"I just flailed," she muttered, sipping. "Dancing requires coordination."
He smirked. "Physics doesn't judge."
They stared at the flickering flames in silence for a while. Around them, Resistance engineers whispered ideas, argued over equations, and fixed equipment with scavenged parts.
The world was breaking—yet here, humanity was building.
"Tomorrow we move," Toma said, approaching the fire. "We test it on the outer Veil. If it holds, we go for the core."
Luma's stomach clenched.
And yet… for the first time, she didn't feel like she was being dragged by destiny.
She felt like she was steering it.