A roar dragged the giant shadow stretched across the skyline, swallowing the sun and plunging the city into an unnatural night. It was a Mechanical beast of unimaginable scale, its towering form blotting out the heavens.
Glistening steel panels reflected the faint flickers of light from fires below, while massive joints creaked and groaned, releasing bursts of steam like a living, breathing colossus. Its roar—a low, guttural rumble that built into an ear-splitting crescendo—shook the ground, leaving cracks spiderwebbing through the streets.
Panic seized the city as people fled in every direction, their screams piercing through the cacophony of collapsing buildings and roaring flames. Explosions erupted where the beast's massive limbs crashed down, its claws tearing through skyscrapers as though they were paper. Smoke billowed up, choking the streets with ash and debris, while alarms blared warnings of an imminent defense response.
In the middle of the chaos stood a little boy, unmoving. His pale face was streaked with soot, his clothes torn, but his emerald-green eyes remained sharp, reflecting the mayhem around him. His gaze shifted upward, locking onto the streaks of incoming machines , a fleet of sleek fighter drones that surged through the sky, their contrails cutting through the smoke as they headed straight for the behemoth.
The first missile struck the beast's chest, followed by a dozen more in rapid succession. For a brief moment, there was silence, as if the world itself had paused to witness the culmination of the assault.
Then came the explosion.
It erupted like a second sun, a sphere of light so intense it seemed to consume the horizon. A brilliant fireball expanded outward, its core white-hot, surrounded by concentric rings of orange and crimson flame.
The shockwave raced outward with apocalyptic force, flattening everything in its path—buildings crumbled, vehicles were flung like toys, and people were swept off their feet. The deafening roar of the detonation drowned out all else, a sound so overwhelming that it pressed against the boy's chest like a physical weight.
He didn't hear the screams anymore. He didn't hear anything. His ears were ringing, a shrill, endless note that marked the last sound he would ever hear. As the mushroom cloud climbed into the darkened sky, blotting out even the faintest glimmers of light, the boy's vision dimmed. The world around him faded into an oppressive blackness as he sank to his knees, the suffocating heat and smoke stealing the air from his lungs.
"BP is getting high; he's crashing out—pull him out!" a voice barked, cutting through the haze.
The boy's consciousness returned with a violent jolt as the lid of a pod slid open. Viscous liquid spilled out in rivulets, and he fell forward, coughing violently, expelling the strange biocore fluid from his lungs. His body trembled with exertion, every muscle spasming as he struggled to stay upright.
Above him, a group of scientists loomed, their white coats and sterile expressions betraying no hint of empathy. One of them glanced at a monitor, his voice cold and clinical.
"Weak body frame. Integration with biocore activation liquid: 25%. Recommendation for biocore awakening: Not recommended."
Another scientist crouched before him, tilting the boy's chin upward with an almost reluctant gentleness. For a moment, the man's professional detachment faltered. The boy's face, wet with the metallic sheen of biocore fluid, was almost ethereal. His phoenix-shaped green eyes held a piercing clarity, framed by bruises and the unmistakable signs of mistreatment. His nose was slender, his lips full and soft, their blossom-pink hue stark against his pale skin. Despite his bruised and malnourished frame, there was a quiet strength to him.
"You're from the new batch, aren't you?" the scientist murmured, more to himself than to the boy. "Judging by your performance your rank... it's F. A shame. With a face like that, you could've had a brighter future elsewhere."
The boy said nothing, his chest still heaving as he fought to catch his breath. The scientist straightened, addressing him with measured tones. "For your safety, I strongly advise you to abandon this process. The data shows that continuing could lead to permanent damage. Will you proceed to the awakening of your biocore?"
The boy blinked, his green eyes shimmering with confusion as he processed the scientist's words. He brought his hands up slowly, forming a series of intricate gestures. His movements were deliberate but fluent, conveying his inability to understand the spoken message. Pressing the small ear studs affixed to his lobes, they unfurled Mechanically into a sleek, curved device that fit snugly over his ears. A faint hum followed, and a holographic interface projected before his face, glowing faintly against the sterile light of the laboratory.
"I'm sorry, sir," he said, his voice croaky and rusty. "I am deaf. Could you repeat your words?"
The scientist hesitated, caught off-guard by the hollow, almost artificial tone of the boy's voice. After a moment, he cleared his throat and restated, "You were ranked F in your bio-evaluation. Will you proceed to the core awakening, knowing you have a 75% chance of dying in the process?"
As the scientist spoke, the words appeared in glowing text on the boy's virtual screen. His gaze didn't waver. "Yes!" he replied immediately, his green eyes shining with resolve, pure and unwavering despite the gravity of the situation.
The scientist sighed, his expression a mix of weariness and pity. "Humans already struggle to survive in this world," he muttered under his breath. "For someone like him... maybe this is the only chance he thinks he has." He straightened and gestured to his team. "Get him on the table."
Within moments, two assistants in protective suits moved swiftly to the boy's side, their movements clinical and efficient. Without a word, they each took an arm and lifted him as though he were cargo.
They carried him across the lab, strapping him down onto a metallic operating table. His head, arms, and legs were secured tightly with heavy restraints that clanked ominously into place. Once satisfied he couldn't move, the assistants retreated silently to their stations.
The head scientist stepped forward, his face illuminated by the cold light of the equipment surrounding him. "I'm going to explain how this process will work," he began, his voice measured and steady, though there was an undertone of reluctance. "In a few minutes, that machine over there"—he pointed to a large, cylindrical device humming softly in the corner—"will inject you with seven doses of pure liquid biocore. Since you're from a public school and no advanced payment was made, we'll be using the standard government-mandated biocore."
He paused, his tone growing more clinical. "The nanogenes in the biocore will stimulate your genome and attempt to awaken your core. However, because we're using standard-grade biocore, the process will be slow... and extremely painful. If you can't endure it, you will die. Do you understand?"
The boy's virtual screen translated the scientist's words into text, which scrolled before his eyes. He nodded slightly, his lips pressed into a determined line.
"Let me know when you're ready," the scientist said, stepping back and waiting.
The boy's gaze flickered to the machinery surrounding him, then back to the scientist. He took a long, steady breath. "I'm ready."
The scientist sighed a third time, his frustration mixing with a pang of guilt. Giving a brisk nod, he signaled for the procedure to begin. One of the assistants pressed the initiation button. The machine came to life, emitting a low hum as its Mechanical appendages descended like a spider's legs. Each limb aligned precisely with Nioh's body: his legs, arms, chest, belly button, and forehead.
Nioh braced himself, his eyes squeezing shut. Then, like fangs sinking into prey, the machine plunged its injectors into him. His eyes flew open in shock before closing again as he clenched his fists, his body jerking involuntarily. The crimson liquid biocore began to flow into his veins, spreading a searing heat throughout his frame. Despite the agony, no sound escaped his lips—only faint tremors betrayed the unbearable pain.
The scientist, observing from the control station, was startled. He had anticipated screams, thrashing, perhaps even desperate pleas for mercy. Yet this boy endured with a stoicism that unsettled him. "Check his vitals," he instructed his assistants, his voice tinged with disbelief. "Unhook him in two hours if he survives. This might actually work."
As he spoke, he opened the patient's file, skimming its contents:
Name: Nioh
Age: 14
Sign: Gemini
Address: Hope Memorial Orphanage
Remarks: Deaf
Occupation: Student at Megara Soldier Academy
The details painted a stark picture. A survivor of the infamous behemoth attack ten years ago, Nioh had lost both his hearing and the use of his legs. Years of grueling rehabilitation had restored his mobility, but the scars lingered. Exceptional in theoretical courses, particularly electro-Mechanics, yet unremarkable in physical disciplines, the boy's ambition to become a battlefield support engineer seemed both noble and tragically out of reach.
As the scientist pieced together the story, Nioh drifted in and out of consciousness. The serum ignited a fire within him, his skin paling as his body endured the excruciating process. Just as he thought he might break, a familiar sensation surfaced—a voice resonated in his mind.
"Nioh…"
It wasn't hearing, not in the traditional sense. It was something deeper, an ancient presence stirring within him.
"Ekoh...! I am here," Nioh replied, his mental voice calm yet brimming with emotion.
"How long has it been?"
"Ten years," Nioh answered, a longing filling his thoughts.
Ekoh's presence swelled. "At that time, I used my last energy to shield you from the explosion. It put me into slumber, but I've been healing your body ever since. Without this biocore injection, I would have remained dormant for another decade."
Nioh felt a swell of gratitude. "I'm just glad you're back. Run diagnostics and let me know where we stand."
A star-shaped diagram appeared in his mind. His mental energy was extraordinary—ranked in the S range—but his body lagged behind, a fragile F range. Ekoh explained, "Your cumulative bio-energy is too small, and my growth has been stunted. Morphing would be dangerous."
"Let's take it slow," Nioh decided. "Process the biocore to strengthen my body frame."
Suddenly, Ekoh's voice grew sharp. "Nioh, I detect a large source of pure biocore energy being restricted by the machine. Should we force access?"
Nioh's resolve hardened. "No. Create an low frequency sound discharge to disable their equipment. Hijack as much of the energy as you can during the confusion."
Ekoh hesitated. "It'll flood your system with unimaginable pain. You sure?"
"I've waited ten years. Do it now."
The room buzzed with static as the machine trembled violently. Sparks erupted from its joints, and a deafening crack echoed as an electromagnetic pulse discharged. The lights flickered before plunging the lab into chaos.
"What's happening?!" one assistant yelled.
"The system's overloaded!" another cried, panic evident in their tone.
Before anyone could react, the machine's restraints shattered, releasing an avalanche of pure biocore energy. It surged into Nioh's body like a raging tide, his veins lighting up with an intense crimson glow. His body thrashed uncontrollably, his head snapping back as guttural screams finally tore from his throat. He convulsed violently, blood seeping from his nose, ears, and mouth as the energy burned through him.
"He's going to die! Reboot the system, now!" the scientist bellowed, racing to the boy's side. He fumbled with the straps, undoing them as quickly as his trembling hands allowed.
The assistants scrambled to cut power to the machine, but it was too late. The final surge caused the room to black out momentarily before the lights flickered back. The machine retracted its appendages, steaming and lifeless.
Nioh's limp body sagged against the scientist, who propped him up and patted his back urgently. "Breathe! It's over. You passed the hard part!" he assured, though his voice betrayed lingering fear.
With visible reluctance, the scientist barked to the assistants, "Escort him out of the premises. Don't let him die here—we can't afford another ethics inquiry."
As they lifted Nioh's battered body, his green eyes fluttered open briefly, flickering with a new intensity. Ekoh's voice whispered in his mind: "We did it."