The heavy, industrial sirens of the Iron Dominion did not wail like the clean, digital chirps of Neo-Veridia. They were low-frequency roars that vibrated in the bone marrow, warning of massive, shifting tonnage. Outside the hangar, the night was a soup of grey smog and orange sodium flares, through which the Reclamation Fleet began its ponderous crawl.
Kai sat in the pilot's harness of the Widowmaker, eyes closed, desperately trying to force his mind into a state of meditative stillness. His Primal Flow affinity had ticked up from 1% to a meager 4%. It was like trying to fill a reservoir with a dropper.
The Widowmaker's core was a living weight at his back. Even in standby mode, it emitted a heat that caused the air in the cockpit to shimmer. It was a hungry beast, waiting for the surge of activity that would let it taste the open air.
Roric: "The fleet is forming up, Kai. You have lead position. Kross is watching from the Command Crawler. If you deviate from the path, the escort tanks have orders to fire on your legs to 'immobilize' the prototype. They don't want you running back to Neo-Veridia."
"I can't even stand up without a three-point stabilization check, Roric," Kai muttered into his comms. "Where would I run?"
Roric: "Just stay focused. We're heading for the Sector 4 gates. The air there is heavy with Aetheric friction. You'll feel it before you see it."
Kai engaged the drive systems. The Widowmaker groaned, its massive hydraulic joints pressurizing with a hiss that drowned out the rain starting to fall outside. He stepped out of the hangar, the colossal Mecha's feet crushing the asphalt of the military roadway.
Around him, the Reclamation Fleet was an awesome sight of industrial might. Three massive Command Crawlers—huge, multi-treaded fortresses—led the way, flanked by dozens of Iron-Clad Walkers, which were essentially scaled-down, more stable versions of the Widowmaker. They lacked the prototype's raw power, but they were reliable soldiers of the Industrial Flow.
Beyond the armor were the Siphon-Tanks, specialized vehicles with long, translucent tubes designed to vacuum up the corrupted Aether-scraps left in the wake of a Scourge purge. The Iron Dominion didn't just fight the Scourge; they scavenged it.
As the march began, the city changed. They were moving out of the clean, high-production factory zones and into the derelict sprawl of Sector 4. Here, the air was a thick, greenish haze. Massive pipes that once channeled the Industrial Flow were now twisted, covered in a pulsating, crystalline growth that glowed with a sickly violet light.
General Kross (Over global comms): "Attention Fleet. We are entering the first containment zone. Reality density is dropping. Engaging Aether-Shields."
Kai saw the flicker of energy barriers over the command crawlers. On his HUD, the environment started to glitch. The road beneath him appeared to turn into liquid, then back to solid steel. The buildings on either side flickered like dying holograms.
This was the Scourge's influence—the distortion of physical laws.
P(Structural Integrity of Ground)=62.0%
Kai gripped the sticks. "Roric, the ground density is fluctuating. The tanks are fine because they have wide treads, but my foot pressure is high. I'm going to sink."
Roric: "Then stabilize the ground, Kai! Use the core's output to reinforce the physical lattice. Inject a burst of Industrial Flow directly into the asphalt beneath your next step."
Kai's stomach turned. To inject pure, raw energy into a distorting surface required a delicacy he wasn't sure he possessed. It was like trying to perform surgery with a sledgehammer.
He focused. He looked at the liquid-looking road twenty feet ahead. He calculated the interference pattern.
P(Ground Stabilization)=12.0%
"Not high enough," Kai hissed. He reached into his 4% affinity. It felt like fire burning through his veins.
Force the probability. The ground is iron. The ground is unyielding. The ground exists.
P(Ground Stabilization)=99.9%
The Widowmaker's leg surged with orange light. As the massive foot hit the ground, a shockwave of Industrial energy blasted outward, instantly solidifying the reality within a ten-foot radius. The "liquid" road snapped back into rigid asphalt with the sound of a crackling glacier.
Inside the cockpit, Kai doubled over, coughing. His lungs felt like they were filled with smoke.
General Kross: "Exceptional work, Analyst. You've created a real-time reality anchor. Fleet, follow the Vanguard's path! Use his wake to save power on shields!"
The march accelerated. For the next three miles, Kai became a human battery. Every step required a probability override to hold the world together. The strain was systematic. He could feel the Widowmaker's machine-spirit beginning to bond with him, a dark, heavy consciousness that relished the violence of the exertion.
THE WIDOWMAKER (Neural feedback): "MORE. CRUSH THE WEAK SPACE. FORGE THE NEW LAW."
"Shut up," Kai whispered, his voice trembling. "I'm the one in charge."
They reached the gates of Sector 4's inner sanctum—the Foundry of Broken Anchors.
This was a massive, hollowed-out subterranean space that housed one of the primary physical stabilizers for the Prismatic Array. The gates were fifty feet high, made of lead-shielded iron, and they were weeping violet fluid.
General Kross: "Vanguard. Breach the gate. The scanners indicate a Scourge-Nest has formed on the interior. Clear the threshold."
Kai looked at the gates. He saw the movement in the violet shadows—huge, spidery shapes made of shifting static and crystalline blades. These were Scourge-Stalkers, entities that had evolved to feed on the heavy metal of the Dominion.
He felt the Widowmaker's weapon systems prime themselves—a shoulder-mounted plasma cannon and a colossal, heated serrated blade on the right arm.
Roric: "Kai, don't just shoot. If you miss, the Scourge will absorb the energy. You have to hit the reality-source. Look for the 'Flow-Point' in their core."
Kai engaged the HUD. The Scourge-Stalkers were hard to track; they flickered in and out of existence, moving between the gaps in reality.
P(Target Lock)=4.0%
"I can't hit them if I can't see them," Kai said, panic rising.
Roric: "Then make them see you. Force them into this reality. Use a probability burst to declare their physical presence as an absolute."
Kai understood. He gathered the last scraps of his strength. He wasn't stabilizing the machine now; he was manifesting the enemy.
You are here. You are flesh and bone. You follow my law.
The HUD locked. Three Scourge-Stalkers suddenly solidified, their forms losing their ghostly shimmer. They shrieked—a sound like metal grinding against glass.
P(Target Lock)=100%
Kai slammed the trigger. The plasma cannon roared, a beam of concentrated orange energy incinerating the first Stalker instantly. The shockwave of the blast didn't distort; it was anchored by Kai's will.
He swung the serrated blade, the heated metal cutting through the second Stalker like a hot knife through wax. The entity didn't glitch out; it died, spilling thick violet ichor across the Foundry floor.
General Kross: "The Analyst is a god of war! Fleet, advance! Secure the breach!"
The Reclamation Fleet surged into the Foundry, the Iron-Clad Walkers firing their rotary cannons. The battle was a cacophony of industrial violence and reality distortion.
Kai moved through the carnage, the Widowmaker performing with terrifying fluidly. He was the anchor in the storm. Every step solidified the reality for the fleet behind him. Every strike confirmed the physical existence of the enemy before he destroyed them.
But the cost was absolute.
As they cleared the final Nest and approached the primary Array anchor—a massive, spinning obsidian tower in the center of the pit—Kai's HUD began to fail.
P(Consciousness)=15.0%... 10.0%...
"Roric... I'm out... I can't... hold the loop," Kai gasped.
Roric: "Just a few more steps, Kai! If we lose the loop now, the core detonates inside the anchor's field! It will wipe the fleet!"
General Kross: "Analyst, maintain synchronization! That is a direct order! Boost the output!"
Kai felt the Widowmaker's core screaming. It wanted to expand. It wanted to consume the failing Array anchor and become something monstrous.
He had no Primal Flow left. He was empty.
Then, he saw it. The Obsidian Tower was leaking a different kind of energy—not the heavy orange of the Dominion or the sickly violet of the Scourge. It was a pure, white light.
The Sacred Flow. The anchors aren't just technical, Kai realized, his fading mind grasping at the final piece of lore. They are spiritual. They require belief.
He didn't need probability math. He needed a prayer.
He remembered the files on the Seraphic Choir. They believed the Aether was a promise from the Founders.
"If I'm already dying," Kai whispered, "I might as well make a promise."
He let go of the probability calculation. He stopped trying to force 100% and started accepting the possibility of existence. He stopped being an Analyst and started being a witness.
The HUD turned white.
P(Existence)=∞
The Widowmaker stopped glowing orange. It glowed with a blinding, pure radiance. The Scourge entities within the Foundry didn't burn; they simply ceased to be, rewritten out of reality.
The Obsidian Tower stabilized, its rotation slowing to a rhythmic, peaceful pulse.
Kai slumped in the harness, the white light fading into a deep, heavy blackness. The neural probe disconnected softly.
The last thing he heard was Roric's voice, sounding like it was coming from miles away.
Roric: "He didn't cheat the code. He changed the language."
The Widowmaker stood silent and motionless at the foot of the repaired anchor, the pilot within completely unresponsive as the Iron Dominion's march turned into a shocked standstill.
The first anchor was reinforced, but the cost had left the anomaly silent.