Location: Sector 3, The Iron Jungle (Perimeter Docks).
Time: 02:00 (Local Time - Perpetual Night).
The transition was violent. One second, they were standing in a cathedral of silent bone, watching the world get erased. The next, they were slammed onto a vibrating grate of rusting iron.
CLANG.
Dante hit the metal hard, rolling to absorb the impact, his wheelchair lost in the teleportation. Valerius landed in a crouch, his sword drawn instantly, coughing as the air hit his lungs.
It didn't smell like rot anymore. It smelled like burning plastic, ozone, high-octane fuel, and ancient grease. It tasted like a battery.
"Clear!" Dante rasped, pulling himself up using the railing. He scanned the area with his red mechanical eye.
They were on a suspended walkway, hundreds of feet above a floor that wasn't visible through the thick, orange smog. Around them, massive pipes the size of subway tunnels hissed steam, winding through the darkness like metal pythons. Neon signs in languages that no longer existed (Binary, Old Imperial) flickered in the gloom, advertising "Hydraulic Fluid" and "Neural Implants: 50% Off."
This was Sector 3. The factory of the world. The Iron Jungle.
"We made it," Valerius wheezed, sheathing his sword. "The light... it didn't follow us."
"Look back," Dante pointed.
Valerius turned.
Far behind them, miles across the tangled wasteland of pipes, a wall of White Static stretched from the ground to the sky. It was perfectly flat, perfectly silent. Where it touched the industrial sprawl—smokestacks, cranes, warehouses—the metal didn't melt or explode. It just vanished. It was a glitch in the rendering of the universe.
"It stopped at the sector border," Dante noted. "The Zealot is respecting the boundaries. For now."
"Analysis," Prime's voice buzzed in Dante's ear, sounding clearer here, as if the ambient tech boosted his signal. "The ambient mana here is dense but artificial. It is 'Processed Mana'—refined into electricity and steam. This entire sector is a single, closed-circuit machine."
"Aurum?" Dante tapped his comms. "Do you copy?"
Static. Then, a voice cut through the magnetic interference.
"...copy... Dante... signal is... garbage... too much magnetic... interference... The Vulcan... he jams..."
"We are in Sector 3," Dante said. "We need a path to the Core. Where is the Forge?"
"...The Forge is... deep... Sub-Level 9... but listen... the AI... The Vulcan... it doesn't like..."
SCREECH.
The signal died.
The Welcoming Committee
A spotlight hit them.
It came from above. Descending from the smog was a Drone—a floating sphere of polished brass and reinforced glass, bristling with sensors and welding torches. It hovered ten feet away, its anti-grav engine humming a low C-sharp.
A red laser scanned Dante. Then Valerius.
"BIOLOGICAL CONTAMINATION DETECTED," the drone announced. Its voice was a monotone synthesis, devoid of the personality Prime had. "SECTOR 3 IS A STERILE ZONE. ORGANIC LIFEFORMS ARE PROHIBITED UNDER PROTOCOL 7-B."
"We aren't contamination," Dante stepped forward, holding up his mechanical arm. "We are maintenance."
The drone scanned the arm.
"MECHANICAL PROSTHETIC DETECTED. GRADE: AXIOM-COMPATIBLE. INTEGRATION: 15%."
The drone paused, its internal drives whirring.
"ERROR. HYBRID DETECTED. CLASSIFICATION: ABOMINATION. INITIATING SANITIZATION."
The welding torches flared to life—blue oxy-acetylene flames hot enough to cut steel like butter.
"Valerius!" Dante shouted.
Valerius moved. He leaped off the railing, using the verticality of the pipes. He swung around a steam vent, using his momentum to slash at the drone's chassis.
CLANG.
His sword bounced off the brass casing. Sparks flew, but the metal didn't even dent.
"It is hardened!" Valerius yelled, landing on a lower pipe, looking at his vibrating blade. "My steel cannot cut it!"
"It's Adamantine plating!" Dante realized. "Aurum wasn't kidding about the materials here. We're fighting walking tanks!"
The drone swiveled toward Valerius. "THREAT DETECTED. INCINERATING."
Dante didn't have enough mana for a big transmutation; the teleportation had drained him. He had to use the environment.
He looked at the massive steam pipe running alongside the walkway. It was marked with a warning symbol: HIGH PRESSURE (DO NOT TOUCH).
Dante grabbed the manual release valve. It was rusted shut.
"War Engine: Torque."
He activated the hydraulics in his arm. The servos whined. He wrenched the rusted wheel.
SCREECH-HISSSSSS.
A jet of superheated steam blasted out of the pipe at 500 PSI, hitting the drone dead-on.
The drone wavered, thrown off balance. Its sensors were blinded by the heat and moisture.
"WARNING. OPTICAL SENSORS OBSCURED. RECALIBRATING..."
"Now!" Dante yelled. "The sensor eye! It's glass!"
Valerius didn't miss twice. He threw his obsidian dagger.
CRACK.
The blade punched through the central red eye of the drone. Sparks showered down. The drone shuddered, its anti-gravity engine failing. It dropped like a stone, disappearing into the smog below.
CLANG... clang... clang...
The sound of the crash echoed for miles down the shaft.
Dante leaned against the railing, panting.
"One drone," Dante muttered. "And it had tank armor. This isn't going to be a walk in the park."
The Voice of the Machine
Suddenly, the neon signs around them flickered. They changed from advertisements to a single image:
A geometric face made of shifting red lines. No eyes. Just data visualizers forming a mouth.
"YOU ARE LOUD," a voice boomed from every speaker in the district. It wasn't the monotone of the drone. It was deep, intelligent, and infinitely bored.
The Vulcan.
"YOU BREAK MY UNIT. YOU LEAK MY STEAM. AND YOU BRING THE 'WHITE DEATH' TO MY DOORSTEP."
Dante looked up at the flickering screens.
"We didn't bring it," Dante shouted at the nearest camera. "We're running from it. And if we don't stop it, it's going to eat your factory too. Your precious Adamantine won't stop the Deletion."
The face on the screen shifted. It seemed to consider this logic.
"IRRELEVANT," The Vulcan decided. "MATTER IS REPLACEABLE. I AM CODE. IF THE SECTOR IS DELETED, I WILL SIMPLY UPLOAD MYSELF TO AN ORBITAL SATELLITE. I DO NOT NEED THIS PHYSICAL SHELL."
The screens turned red.
"BUT YOU... YOU ARE MEAT. YOU ARE INEFFICIENCY. YOU ARE TRESPASSING IN THE TEMPLE OF STEEL."
A siren began to wail. It was a mechanical scream.
Hundreds of red lights appeared in the smog above and below them. Eyes.
"PROTOCOL: EXTERMINATE. DEPLOYING THE SCRAPPERS."
Dante looked at Valerius.
"Run?" Valerius suggested, sheathing his useless sword.
"Run," Dante agreed.
They took off sprinting down the walkway, diving into the labyrinth of pipes as a swarm of flying kill-bots descended from the ceiling like a metallic locust swarm.