CelestOS: Resource scan complete. Highest-grade copper deposit detected at one-point-six-two kilometers northeast, across primary geological discontinuity. Estimated yield: double current production. Congratulations on waking up to crippling responsibility.

  Ethan squinted toward the horizon. Morning sun bled gold across the ridge, casting the ravine in stark shadows. Beyond, the resin forest glittered in daylight, its black trunks slick with dew and leaves gleaming like shards of glass. Even in morning air, it looked like something alive was breathing just beneath the bark.

  “Across the ravine,” Ethan said. “Of course. Why not plant the next ore patch right next to a monster nursery?”

  CelestOS: Clarification: copper ore does not self-plant. Please keep commentary factually accurate. However, probability of monsters at location: statistically significant.

  The growl came then, louad and ragged, audible despite the distance, rolling from deep inside the resin line. It carried far too well in the morning stillness, as though the trees themselves had hollow lungs. Birds, or things that wanted to be birds, flapped from the canopy, crying sharp and metallic.

  Ethan rubbed grit from his eyes. “That’s your plan? You want me to set up a mining run next to that?”

  CelestOS: Affirmative. Projected yield per minute is 2.04 times current baseline. Efficiency is mandatory. Fear is optional.

  “Right,” Ethan said dryly. “Optional, until I’m mulch.”

  CelestOS: Incorrect. The choice is: harvest copper and then become mulch. Please try to follow objectives clearly.

  He dragged his palm down his face and stared again at the far bank. The planet had a sense of humor, cruel and cosmic. Of course the richest vein nearby would be across a gorge, tucked up against a forest that sounded like it wanted to eat him for breakfast.

  Ethan sighed. “Let me guess. You’ve already branded this operation.”

  CelestOS: Confirmed. Primary codename: Operation Across the Gap. Secondary suggestion: Project: Bridge to Nowhere. Would you like to vote?

  “Hard pass.”

  CelestOS: Understood. Defaulting to Operation Across the Gap. Your enthusiasm has been recorded and will be shared in the next quarterly morale audit.

  He almost laughed. The logic was sound since double copper meant turret hoppers filled instead of starved and belts stocked instead of sputtering, but the logistics were madness. He would have to build a bridge across a ravine, anchor it against a resin biome that practically purred when the wind hit it wrong, and then babysit the drill while every snarl in the treeline sized him up.

  CelestOS: Recommendation: initiate bridge fabrication immediately. Failure to comply may result in resource stagnation, turret malnutrition, and your premature memorialization. Projected ROI: inspirational, provided your heirs appreciate irony.

  “Inspirational,” Ethan said. “That’s the word you’re going with.”

  CelestOS: Correct. Tombstones rarely inspire. However, a cremation urn doubles as a paperweight.

  Ethan groaned into his hands. “Maybe it's time to reset you again. You’re unbelievable. ”

  CelestOS: Incorrect. I am highly believable. That is why you keep obeying me.

  The ravine cut the land into a clean no, a black seam where sunlight could not reach. Ethan crouched at the lip and traced the AR path CelestOS threw across the gap which was a pale line from his boots to a blinking marker on the far bank, then a faint fork angling toward the resin trees. The forest glittered like broken glass in a jewelry case, making even daylight feel secondhand.

  “Show me span length and grade,” he said.

  CelestOS: Span: 18.6 meters. Elevation delta: 0.7 meters upward to the far bank. Crosswind risk: intermittent. Probability of regrettable decisions: persistent.

  Ethan shuffled closer to the lip, eyeing the broken shelves of rock on both sides as his boots scuffed loose grit into the drop. The ravine yawned beneath him: eighteen meters of sheer denial, its stone walls striped with old mineral seams and jagged ledges where erosion had bitten away. It was a black seam that cut clean through the landscape, daring him to try.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  He crouched, knuckles pressed to cold rock, and studied the far side.

  A few shelves of broken basalt jutted just enough to take a brace. Higher up, a flatter apron of stone spilled out toward the resin forest. That shelf was wide and steady, good for a drill platform later. But closer to the drop, he spotted two protrusions of bedrock that could take a pin without shearing.

  He paced the near bank, tracing the line. The gorge wasn’t wide enough to justify a permanent span yet; this would be a conveyor bridge only, a thin vein of belts carrying ore. Outpost first, long haul later. That doctrine had saved him already and it would again.

  A sound cracked the quiet with a wet chuff from the trees, deep and guttural. Ethan froze. The resin forest glittered in the morning light, dew winking like glass beads. Between the trunks, something shifted which was just a shadow, broad at the shoulders. He couldn’t tell if it was moving forward or simply leaning in to watch him.

  He swallowed and forced his attention back to the span. “Anchor two, far bank, below basalt shelf. That’s my catch point.”

  CelestOS: Recorded. Suggested profile: two-segment span, low clearance, mid-span brace. Height: minimal. Purpose: prevent hostile biomass from gaining leverage beneath structure.

  “Hostile biomass. That’s one way to say monsters.”

  Another sound rippled from the treeline. A twig ticked against stone, rolling into the ravine and echoing off the walls. Ethan’s eyes followed the arc until it vanished into the dark. Nothing came out after it, but the forest’s glitter seemed sharper now, its edges catching the light like knives.

  He exhaled slowly. Fear pressed at him, but the plan was solid: build short, keep the bridge low so nothing big could wedge underneath, anchor into real stone instead of soil, run supplies across, flag the deposit, and only then start thinking about a drill. He rose and swept his gaze once more across the line.

  The gorge was a no, but no was just a problem waiting for a solution. With pins, braces, and belts, he could turn it into a yes, at least long enough to bury himself in copper.

  CelestOS: Survey complete. Confidence interval: 62%. Remaining variable: courage. Probability of user possessing it: 11%.

  He snorted. “Mark me down as pending.”

  CelestOS: Status recorded. Courage: pending. Project morale: unchanged.

  Ethan turned from the lip, already tallying what he’d need: wood for pins, wire for bindings, and enough copper to string a bridge thin as a promise across a gorge that wanted him dead. He laid out the kit on the rock shelf which included stripped logs cut to length, a pouch of twisted copper wire, and a half-used canister of binding resin that smelled like industrial vinegar.

  CelestOS had already ghosted the blueprint into his AR field: six belt sections, two ground pins, and one mid-span brace with low clearance and no wasted height.

  “Recipe check,” Ethan said, kneeling by the pile. “T1 belt section: five logs, one copper wire, one binding agent. I’ve got…” He counted with a grimace. “Thirty logs, ten wires, three binders. That’s just enough.”

  CelestOS: Congratulations. Inventory is accurate. Failure will still kill you.

  “Appreciate the vote of confidence.”

  He slotted the first logs into the fabricator’s clamps and watched as teeth shaved the wood down into uniform rollers. The smell of hot resin joined the morning air. He flexed his fingers while the machine spat out a section of belt, its copper wire gleaming faintly along the edge where power would run. The rollers spun once, whining, then stilled.

  The forest answered with a chuff that was deeper this time. Ethan froze, the finished belt balanced awkwardly in his hands. Leaves shivered across the treeline, not from wind, but because something heavy and deliberate brushed them.

  He forced himself to move. The first ground pin went in easy, mallet ringing sharp against stone. He braced the belt section across and locked the coupler into place. The rollers hummed faintly as the binding resin cured.

  CelestOS: Warning: crosswind at two meters per second. Probability of unplanned user flight: 11%. Please refrain from falling. Our actuarial models are unsympathetic.

  “Duly noted.”

  He crawled forward to set the mid-span brace. The gorge below sucked at his nerves as the drop felt deeper from the middle. He wedged the brace against a narrow shelf, hammered it home, and clipped the coupler across. The rollers vibrated with a low metallic whir as the structure settled.

  Another sound came from a rock clattering off the far ledge. Ethan’s head snapped up. The forest canopy swayed in silence with no breeze in sight. Then there was movement: a shape shifting behind brush, broad and angular, before vanishing. He held his breath until the silence pressed like a weight.

  “Not today,” he whispered, and went back to work.

  Section after section locked into place, each joined with a faint hiss as resin fused wood and wire. Sweat gathered beneath his collar despite the cool air. He kept glancing up, expecting teeth to appear between the trunks, but saw only glittering black bark and dew-lit leaves, watching.

  The final coupler clicked. He leaned back on his heels and wiped grit from his forehead. The belt stretched straight and taut, a thin artery of rollers running from his boots to the far bank.

  CelestOS: Assembly complete. Span stability is major area for concern. Suggested test: apply expendable weight. Test Subject: you.

  “Not happening. You first.” Ethan fished out a crate lid, set a few ingots inside, and slid it onto the rollers. The scrap rumbled across the span, rollers whining in protest. Midway, the brace squealed, bearings shrieking under the load. The crate wobbled, then creaked onward until it thudded against the far coupler and toppled sideways.

  Ethan blew out a long breath. The bridge had barely held. How was he going to get across?

  CelestOS: Test successful. Probability of collapse with user weight: marginal. Project status: inspirational.

  He let out a dry laugh. “Yeah. Real inspirational.”

  The gorge still yawned and the forest still breathed, but the line was drawn. A path where none had been. Copper waited on the far bank, and now he had a way to reach it. Maybe.