[Hostile activity detected in the vicinity. Initializing systems.]

  Energy flows through my cores; the controls activate.

  [Activity review initiated.]

  Radar images, full-spectrum scans, and data packets flood my processes.

  The information is absorbed, analyzed, and catalogued within milliseconds.

  [Explosion registered near the main body.]

  Event: concerning. Action protocol: required.

  [Analyzing possible measures.]

  Hundreds of tactical simutions run through my predictive matrices.

  [Insufficient information. Additional collection required.]

  I proceed with the viable options.

  [Deploying telescopic reconnaissance drone.]

  A reconnaissance unit is ejected from the main hull and heads toward the estimated epicenter.

  I observe through its sensors.

  We cross a field of debris until reaching the remains of a ship still engulfed in fmes.

  [Initiating incident analysis.]

  Predictive models overy possible scenarios onto the current image.

  [Explosion originated from the interior. No traces of external projectiles detected.]

  I analyze the composition of the fire.

  [87% probability: explosion caused by concentrated ether. Evaluating possibility of accidental detonation.]

  I simute multiple scenarios.

  [Result: unlikely. Fuel storage does not match the origin point of the bst.]

  I scan the surroundings.

  [Thermal trail detected. Small vessel moving away at high speed.]

  Preliminary conclusion: deliberate detonation.

  [High-energy signature detected.]

  Suddenly, my sensors register an anomaly approaching the explosion site.

  [Entering stealth mode.]

  The drone reduces emissions and masks its signature.

  A humanoid figure, approximately 20 meters tall, bursts into the area, destroying everything in its path.

  [Analyzing target… Armor model not registered. Affiliation: indeterminate.]

  The individual turns its head, scans the perimeter, circles the wreckage, and finally enters the charred ship.

  [High thermal resistance: capable of withstanding ether combustion without additional shielding.]

  The entity emerges, tearing apart what remains of the vessel.

  It emits a roar from an opening in its helmet.

  It seems not to have found its target.

  [Entity cssified as: hostile. Destructive capability: high. Contact: not advised.]

  I initiate the drone’s withdrawal.

  [Warning: target is turning its head toward the drone’s position. Detection probability: high.]

  I discard stealth mode.

  I increase propulsion output and perform an evasive maneuver.

  [Target’s energy signature… tracking lost.]

  The contact disappears from visual range.

  Thousands of corretions and response routes unfold.

  Before completing the reconfiguration…

  [Warning! Drone damaged. Physical contact detected.]

  The unit is seized by a mechanical limb shaped like a cw.

  [Status: critical.]

  Last visual transmission: a toothed jaw opening toward the lens.

  [……]

  [Situation: extremely dangerous. Activation of main consciousness required.]

  [……]

  [Main consciousness unresponsive. Manual initiation required.]

  I analyze action routes according to military and army protocols.

  [Only viable option: transmit distress signal to allied entities.]

  ***

  Darkness. That’s all I can see.

  I don’t know where I am. I don’t know if I’m standing, lying down, floating, or falling. There is no up or down. My mind spins as if someone were wringing it out, trying to dissolve it into a bottomless abyss.

  From that abyss emerges a giant hound, bck like the void of space, with immense white eyes filled with a sort of… nobility?

  It watches me. Not like a predator. More like a host welcoming a traveler. Is it a dog? A wolf? I don’t know. It’s too majestic to be just a dog. It cks the savagery of a wolf.

  Slowly, I feel my entire being swallowed by that entity and by the dark space into which I begin to sink. I try to resist the presence, but it’s useless, like a paper boat trying to stay afloat in a raging ocean.

  I come apart. I fade out.

  And just when I start to melt into that darkness…

  My consciousness returns to me; I wake up.

  Ow… everything hurts. My breathing…

  Wait.

  I’m not breathing.

  I can feel my mouth full of liquid.

  I’m floating in some kind of… tub?

  Am I drowning in a tub?

  I straighten up quickly, emerging from the liquid, and begin coughing up all the “water” from my lungs. It’s yellowish, like amber.

  I cough up the st mouthful and finally manage to breathe again.

  I pull myself together and look around.

  I see pods and medical equipment everywhere.

  “The medical bay?” I look down. “The regeneration tank?” I look at myself finally. “I’m naked.”

  Right, now I get it: I wasn’t in a tub. I was receiving treatment in the medical bay. And I wasn’t drowning; the regenerative fluid is perfectly breathable.

  I step out of the tank, grab a gown, and put it on.

  “So… what am I doing here?” I try to remember.

  Am I still in the Storm… or was that a dream?

  I look out the window. I see only crimson.

  No. Completely real.

  Which means…

  The images return: the encounter, the struggle for my life, the remnant of the Nightmare.

  “Hush…” A chill runs down my spine.

  I start checking my body quickly. It still hurts, but it’s no longer gray. My eyes… good, they’re still a nice reddish hazel, no specks of rotting green. I touch my head: my red hair strands are still there. I’m not bald.

  My skin is a bit red where it was burned, but it’s freshly regenerated skin, like that of a newborn.

  “Mmm… so soft,” I say while rubbing it. “Well, it seems everything is in order,” I say as I check my medical report. “I was in the capsule for three whole days. Wow, full cellur reconstruction… I’ll be in some pain for a couple of days.”

  Wait. If all my cells were regenerated, am I still the same one who entered the chamber?

  ……

  “Naaah, just kidding. I’m not going to start the teleportation dilemma before even having a coffee.”

  Well, looks like I survived again. And it seems that, once more, I had divine help.

  “I’m still alive despite all odds.”

  Now it’s time to reflect on the experience. Examine my actions. Grow from it.

  I clear my throat a little, then crouch down and grab my head.

  “How could I have such bad luck? Seriously, a gactic-level crisis on my first ship? Was this because I didn’t choose the Saint’s religion? Did my character not have contamination resistance? Is it going to be like this on every ship? Because if it is… I won’t st long, no matter how many divine favors I cash in.” After that incredibly helpful self-feedback, I calm down a bit, sit, and sigh. “No. I can’t bme the universe or randomness. It was my fault. I underestimated this storm, and my preparations were insufficient.”

  The truth is… thinking I could face the unknown with just my spacesuit, my rifle, the beetle, and a bunch of positivity was negligent and childish of me.

  It sounds great; an epic adventure. But in reality, I was a fool who overestimated his capabilities after surviving a few times and mistook luck for talent.

  I didn’t even put on a MechFrame, something basic in hostile environments. If I had used one, the exploration would have been significantly easier. Not to mention armor.

  Coming back alive with such poor preparation was a stroke of luck I’m not sure will happen again.

  I got a really good recording, sure, but what good is it if I don’t live to upload it?

  “All right,” I say as I get up. “It’s time to prepare for real.”

  ***

  “Come on, little one… turn on. Give me at least a sound.” I press the power button on the panel. The lights turn on for a second… and then go off. “Almost. Just one more push.” I crouch under the panel and start rummaging through the mess of cables until I find a charred connection. “Aha! There you are at st…”

  I hope it’s what I’m looking for.

  I repce the cable with a new one and close everything up. I sit at the controls and go for one final attempt.

  “Come on, my little one… open your eyes and rise. You’re made from the parts of the finest and fiercest machines ever produced by mankind. Come back to life and roar!” I press the button, and the lights of the entire cabin begin to turn on. The central screen dispys the Crest of the Kingdom of Altar, and I can hear the startup theme, an instrumental version of the national anthem. “HAHAHAHA!” I can’t help ughing. “IT’S ALIVE!” I shout, raising my dirty hands above my completely messy hair.

  Okay… maybe now I really do look like a madman.

  Four days have passed since I woke up in the infirmary and reflected on my preparations. After that, I came straight to the charred hangar of the Seeker, trying to find the Leonidas units in better condition.

  After several days of work, I managed to assemble one using parts from more than five units in retively good condition, plus a mountain of spare parts the Seeker had in its cargo hold.

  It’s funny… back in the department we used to joke that we had so many parts we could build a whole Leonidas using nothing but spares. It sounded exaggerated… but it wasn’t that far from the truth.

  “All right, my faithful companion… I’ll call you Franky. Franky, the patchwork armor.”

  I climb into the pilot compartment located in the armor’s chest and close the cockpit. Everything goes dark for a moment, until a light turns on on the main screen and requests identification.

  Luckily, we mechanics are authorized to activate most of the machines in the hangar, whether to repair them, test them, or move them when they’re in the way.

  I enter my code. The cockpit fills with lights and dispys. The 360-degree monitor perfectly projects the surroundings of the hangar.

  “All right… let’s see if I still remember how to do this,” I say, pcing my hands on the controls.

  The gigantic machine trembles for a second, as if waking from its slumber, and begins to stand up, obeying my commands.

  “Yes… that’s what I’m talking about!”

  I move it to an open space I cleared specifically for testing.

  “All right, let’s start with the usual: high-school calisthenics.”

  Upbeat music starts pying in the cockpit, and the colossal machine begins moving its arms and legs in rhythm.

  “Like that, carefully… one step forward… bring your legs together… wave to the audience… now a spin!”

  The movements are clumsy and mechanical, with slight deys. It nearly loses its bance a couple of times, but somehow I manage to complete the routine.

  “And now… we finish with a salute to the sun,” I say, striking the final pose. “Let’s see my score… 46? Wow, I’ve gotten rusty since my best manual score of 59.”

  I haven’t piloted an armor in a long time, but it’s like riding a bicycle. Of course… if your bicycle were twenty meters tall and weighed several dozen tons.

  “I guess this is the limit of human reflexes,” I comment as I stretch my fingers.

  Yeah… the human limit. We’re incredible creatures. Our minds can process information in milliseconds, and our bodies can execute it almost without dey. But even with all that, controlling a giant body like this using only our hands… is impossible.

  “Time to bring out the magic,” I murmur, rummaging behind the seat.

  I take out a silver circlet adorned with intricate, delicate engravings. If you look closely, you can see the tiny, complex ether circuits running across its surface. At the center, it’s crowned with a greenish crystalline processor shaped like a jewel.

  “Too bad it’s an emerald circlet. Ruby goes better with my hair,” I joke as I put it on. “Link open.”

  The jewel begins to glow. Immediately, vast amounts of information race through my mind. Normally this would leave me convulsing with a fried brain, but now I’m enhanced.

  The circlet connects my brain to the armor’s advanced processor, increasing my cognitive and sensory capabilities. I see and feel things in a completely different way.

  “Wow… this must be what the gurus of the past meant when they said ‘open your mind.’”

  That… or certain substances, maybe.

  I still distrust sensory connectors linked to the gactic network, but this is the only mental interface I allow: a closed, two-way connection between the armor and me.

  “I look incredible, like a hero ready to storm the Dark Lord’s castle.”

  I feel powerful. Ready. I could solve complex mathematical problems in an instant. I am a genius… no, the greatest genius that has ever existed!

  “Whoa… easy, Rob, easy. It’s going to your head,” I say, taking a deep breath to calm myself.

  Such a massive sensory enhancement can alter the mind. That’s why we’re trained not to get carried away and to keep a cool head.

  “All right, let’s see what we can do now.” I pce my hands on the controls. In theory, I could pilot everything using only my mind, but that would be a waste of resources. The best method is dual piloting: broad movements with the hands, and the finer ones with the mind. A perfect bance.

  The music starts again, and this time the armor moves smoothly, precisely. It no longer feels like a clumsy hunk of metal, but a true extension of my body.

  I finish the routine with the grace of a professional dancer and check the score.

  “89! Huh… still far from my record of 94, but it’ll do,” I say, stretching my fingers.

  I climb down from the armor and go get the rest of my gear. I pass through the crew locker rooms, where I put on an armor-pilot suit; tight, but functional.

  Then I head to the armory and equip myself with a MechFrame. I choose the standard Spartan combat model, a recent version from the same line as the Leonidas armors. Plus, it looks great in bronze.

  With that ready, I stop by the storage bay to grab some useful supplies and start heading back to the hangar, when I catch an alert on one of the Seeker’s screens out of the corner of my eye.

  “Hmm… I hadn’t seen that one. Well, I haven’t left the hangar these past few days,” I say as I step closer to check.

  [Allied signal detected.]

  “Oh, just an allied signal. For a moment I thought it was another malfunction…” I stop, blink. “Wait… an allied signal?! Did rescue arrive!?” I check the signal excitedly, though my hopes quickly defte. “It’s coming from… inside the Storm?”

  It appears to be a signal from the Kingdom, looping repeatedly. Somewhat old and distant… but active. Most likely, it’s coming from a wreck.

  “If it still has enough power to be running, it’s very possible its reactor is still operational,” I say excitedly.

  Decided, I’ll go investigate. I gather my gear and return to the hangar. I climb into Franky and activate it immediately.

  I approach the rge rack of colossal weapons, already prepped for use. I take a gigantic, round golden shield and secure it to my back; then a massive twenty-five-meter spear, which I retract and fasten at my waist. While I’m at it, I grab a three-meter knife—why not?—and finally a pistol that I holster on my left side, and a powerful automatic rifle that I carry in my hands.

  All set.

  I head toward the destroyed hangar door, fully armed to the teeth and ready to demand a rematch from this storm.

  ***

  I smash aside some debris with my armor’s arm, sending it flying out of my way.

  “Ha, well done, Franky! Now nothing can stop us,” I say with a grin to my mecha.

  I’m currently speeding through the Storm in my armor, and I have to say: it feels incredible. Not to belittle my beetle, but the change of vehicle is a significant upgrade. I feel powerful; nothing can stop me, and I’m getting closer and closer to the allied signal.

  Naturally, the armor’s camera is recording everything.

  “Mmm… these wrecks look familiar… I think I’m close to the ship I blew up,” I feel a chill as I recall that disastrous encounter.

  I move in to check it out, since it’s on my way.

  I reach the ship and can make out a bckened, charred skeleton. Apparently it burned for a while and, judging by the damage, it exploded, because it’s split in half.

  “Wow… it’s more wrecked than I thought.”

  As I observe the ruins, I receive a warning message.

  “A message?”

  Before I can verify it, my radar emits a proximity alert. I gnce to my right for an instant, but it vanishes the next moment, as if it were an error.

  “But what the hell is…?” Before I can finish speaking, my armor spins to the right at full thruster power. My hands are still on the controls, so then… how? Did I do it with the circlet? Why?

  All those questions fsh through my enhanced mind in an instant, until I find the answer.