Dominic didn't flinch. The glowing optics of the sentinel mech burned through the dim haze like twin suns, but he stared past them, his expression unreadable. The low hum of the machine's energy core vibrated through the air, its resonance almost hypnotic. He tightened his grip on the rifle slung over his shoulder but didn't raise it.
"Let's see what you've got left in the tank," he muttered under his breath.
Slowly, deliberately, Dominic stepped forward, each movement calculated. The sentinel's frame, battered and riddled with scars, stood at least twice his height. Its right arm was a jagged stump, likely severed in a long-forgotten skirmish, while its chest plate bore the faded insignia of StellarForge.
The mech's optics flickered, shifting to focus on Dominic as he closed the distance. A low growl-like noise emitted from its audio processors, as if it were deciding whether he was a threat.
Dominic held his ground. "You're running on fumes, aren't you?" His voice was calm, almost mocking.
The sentinel took a single step forward, the ground trembling beneath its weight. Dust and debris cascaded from the surrounding wreckage, and Dominic could feel the vibrations in his chest. He reached out with his left hand, slowly lowering his rifle to show he wasn't aiming.
"Easy," he said, his tone soothing. "I'm not here to scrap you. Not yet."
Another step from the sentinel brought it within arm's reach. Its single remaining arm hung at its side, the joints squealing with age. Up close, Dominic could see the extent of the damage: exposed wiring, fractured plating, and a faint, irregular pulse from its energy core.
Dominic moved carefully, pulling a small interface cable from his tool belt. He hesitated for a moment, then connected the cable to a port near the sentinel's waist.
"Let's see what's left in your memory banks," he said, activating his handheld terminal.
The screen flared to life with a cascade of corrupted data. Among the garbled streams, a single coherent line appeared:
"Primary Directive: Protect the Core."
Dominic frowned. "Protect the core?" His eyes darted to the adamantium crystal he'd uncovered earlier.
Before he could react, the sentinel's optics flared brighter, and its remaining arm snapped up, gripping his shoulder in a vice-like hold. The force nearly brought him to his knees.
"Damn it!" Dominic hissed, struggling against the machine's grip. His rifle clattered to the ground as the sentinel pulled him closer, its damaged audio emitters sputtering a broken, mechanical voice.
"Core... critical. Intruder... neutralize..."
Dominic gritted his teeth, feeling the weight of the mech's strength. His free hand fumbled for the plasma torch at his belt.
"You want to protect it?" he growled, igniting the torch. "Then maybe I shouldn't have fixed you."
With a swift motion, he slashed the torch across the mech's exposed wiring. Sparks erupted, and the sentinel jerked violently, releasing him. Dominic stumbled back, gasping for breath as the mech staggered, its optics flickering erratically.
It let out a mechanical roar before collapsing to its knees, its energy core emitting a high-pitched whine.
Dominic picked up his rifle, pointing it at the mech as it convulsed. But instead of firing, he hesitated.
The mech's optics dimmed, its voice reduced to a whisper. "Protect... the heart..."
Then, it went still.
Dominic lowered his weapon, staring at the inert machine. "The heart?" He glanced back at the crystal glowing faintly in the wreckage.
"Looks like you've got secrets," he muttered. "And I'm not leaving until I find out what they are."
Dominic exhaled sharply, wiping the sweat from his brow. The sentinel lay inert now, its optics dark and lifeless. Whatever directives it once had were now dormant, but the cryptic mention of "the heart" gnawed at him. He turned his attention back to the mech's chest plate, where years of rust and battle scars had nearly sealed the old pilot's cabin shut.
The plasma torch hissed to life once more, its blue flame reflecting off the jagged metal. Dominic crouched near the cockpit, his movements deliberate as he began cutting through the corroded edges. Sparks cascaded like falling stars, and the acrid smell of burning alloy filled the air.
"Whoever you were," he murmured to the unseen pilot, "you better have left me something worth this trouble."
The final segment of plating gave way with a groaning screech, and Dominic stepped back as the heavy door fell to the ground. Inside, the cockpit was a tomb.
The skeletal remains of a pilot slumped in the seat, still strapped in by frayed harnesses. The figure's helmet, emblazoned with the StellarForge insignia, rested at an awkward angle, as if the occupant had died in agony. Dominic felt a pang of unease but pushed it aside.
He leaned in, careful not to disturb the brittle bones, and began examining the interior. Most of the instruments were either shattered or fried, their surfaces blackened from electrical surges. But in the center of the console, a faint glow caught his eye.
A small, cylindrical device—smooth and pristine—was embedded in the dashboard. Its surface pulsed with a soft, rhythmic light, almost like a heartbeat.
"This must be the 'heart,'" Dominic muttered, reaching for it.
The moment his fingers brushed the device, the cockpit sprang to life. Screens flickered, projecting distorted images of battlefields, towering mechs, and explosions. A voice crackled from the mech's internal speakers, garbled but distinct:
"Unit designation: Erebus. Prototype neural AI integration... Final mission: Classified."
Dominic's hand froze as the skeletal remains of the pilot twitched, the long-dead figure jerking as if stirred by some unseen force. The glowing device pulsed faster, and the cockpit filled with a low, resonant hum.
"Not good," Dominic said, instinctively stepping back.
Suddenly, the device detached itself from the console, floating midair as the cockpit's systems began to overload. Warning lights flared, and the mech's energy core emitted a sharp, rising whine.
Dominic's instincts screamed at him to run, but his curiosity won out. He snatched the device from the air, its warmth surprising against his palm, and bolted out of the cockpit just as the mech let out a final, deafening roar.
Behind him, the sentinel collapsed entirely, its core imploding with a flash of white light that sent a shockwave rippling across the scrapyard. Dominic hit the ground hard, shielding the glowing device with his body.
When the dust settled, he sat up slowly, coughing as he surveyed the destruction. The sentinel was no more, its remains scattered like ashes across the wasteland.
He opened his hand, staring at the device that now rested there. Its rhythmic pulsing had returned, calm and steady, as if nothing had happened.
"Well," Dominic said, catching his breath. "Guess I've got myself a mystery."
He slipped the device into his jacket pocket and stood, his mind racing. Whatever this thing was, it was valuable. And dangerous.
Dominic's hand lingered on the glowing device in his pocket, his thoughts racing. He turned back to the cockpit, now little more than a crumpled shell. The skeletal remains of the pilot sat eerily still, yet the memory of its unnatural twitch burned into his mind.
He frowned, his brow furrowing as he muttered to himself. "An AI implant... controlling a corpse? That's not supposed to happen."
Stepping cautiously closer to the cockpit, Dominic's trained eyes scanned the remains. The neural interface ports at the base of the pilot's skull were intact, their edges fused with scorch marks, as if something had burned its way in or out. The thought sent a chill down his spine.
Neural AI implants were advanced, yes—capable of enhancing reaction times and bridging the connection between human and machine. But they relied on living neural activity. Once a pilot died, the implant was supposed to shut down, rendered inert without a functioning brain to guide it.
And yet...
Dominic crouched next to the cockpit, leaning in for a closer look. His hand moved instinctively to the diagnostic scanner at his belt. He activated it and held it near the pilot's skull. The scanner beeped, displaying faint energy signatures in a pattern that shouldn't exist.
"Residual activity," Dominic murmured, his voice low with disbelief. "But how?"
The AI voice from earlier echoed in his memory:
"Unit designation: Erebus. Prototype neural AI integration..."
Dominic's eyes widened. "Prototype neural integration... That means..." He trailed off, his gaze shifting to the skeletal remains.
If the AI was truly integrated with the pilot's neural pathways, it could have overridden the body's natural shutdown process. But that would require technology far beyond anything Dominic had ever encountered. And worse, it would mean that the pilot's consciousness—or what was left of it—might still have been present when it happened.
The thought was horrifying.
"You poor bastard," Dominic said softly, standing up and stepping back from the cockpit. His hand reflexively brushed the device in his pocket, the faint pulsing now feeling like a sinister heartbeat.
Whatever this "heart" was, it had somehow kept the AI active, manipulating the mech—and the dead pilot—for years, maybe even decades. The implications made Dominic's stomach churn.
"This isn't just some relic," he muttered. "It's something else. Something... alive."
The silence of the scrapyard pressed in around him, but Dominic could feel the weight of the device against his chest, as if it were listening. Watching.
He turned his back on the cockpit and began walking toward his makeshift transport, his mind whirling. He had to figure out what this device was and why it was connected to a machine capable of violating the very nature of life and death.
But one thing was clear—this discovery was no accident.
Someone—or something—had left it here for a reason.