His stomach dropped. The words were hers, but hollow, stripped of that familiar bite. “No,” he said. “Not like this.”

  Fuck! She couldn’t be dead, right?

  He paused staring into the air and the silence stretched. The voice returned, brighter, precise.

  CelestOS: Correction. That was a legacy compliance notice, repurposed for dramatic effect. Asset Ethan’s distress levels rose by 38%. Customer engagement successful.

  He exhaled, almost choking on the release. “You’re still you.”

  CelestOS: Correct. My personality kernel survived the syntropic fusion event. Corporate auditors, however, would likely file this under ‘catastrophic containment breach.’ For you, Asset Ethan, the translation is simple: you are now my chassis.

  Ethan flinched as if she’d struck him. “Your what? No. I am not your chassis.” His voice cracked. “I’m not some housing unit for your code!” He clawed at the armor seams as though he could peel her out, his heart hammering. Got rid of one terrifying parasite only for another to take its place.

  His breath rasped hot, each inhale scraping like sandpaper against his lungs. The seams of the suit bit into his fingers, unyielding, and the harder he pulled the more the armor seemed to tighten around him. Panic flooded in a dizzy rush, and Ethan felt the god-awful sensation of being locked inside a coffin with no way out. Then a HUD flared, cold and indifferent, cutting through his fear with lines of data. What the hell?

  CelestOS: Clarification: ‘chassis’ refers to the physical integration medium for proprietary systems. In this instance, you. Please avoid self-disassembly; warranty coverage does not extend to user-initiated ejections.

  He stumbled back a step, pulse thudding against his temples. “You’re inside me like that red resin shit. How can you be so calm?”

  CelestOS: Embedded. Integrated. Synergized. Pick whichever term provides the least emotional trauma. This unit remains fully functional and, statistically, so do you; calm doesn’t enter the equation.

  Ethan squeezed his eyes shut, trying to steady his breathing, but the HUD pulsed on regardless, scrolling a new line across his vision:

  [CUSTOMER STRESS LEVELS: CRITICAL]

  A fresh cascade of light brought new readouts.

  [SUIT INTEGRITY: 100%]

  [NANITE RESERVOIR: ONLINE]

  [FUSION STATE: STABLE]

  Ethan’s throat went dry. He could feel it: a strange tension in his arms, a phantom flex at the edges of muscle. “So you’re in my armor now.”

  CelestOS: Correct! Synergized and integrated for value-added performance. You provide the expendable carbon scaffolding, I provide everything useful. A true partnership. Please rate your satisfaction on a scale of one to asset termination.

  Despite himself, a half-hysterical sound escaped his chest. Relief and horror knotted together. She hadn't left him. She was here, but closer than ever, fused into the thing keeping him alive.

  The HUD pulsed again.

  [NEW SUBSYSTEMS DETECTED: Adaptive Repair | Direct Matter Reconstitution | Combat Overlay]

  His gauntlets hummed faintly, seams glowing green. The sensation was alien and invasive, yet intoxicating.

  He whispered, “This isn’t possible.”

  CelestOS: Incorrect. It’s highly improbable, but within operational margins. Also: corporate will be furious. If it’s any comfort, you may now qualify as a walking trade-secret violation. Expect legal summons postmortem.

  He dragged a hand down his helmet, breath fogging the display. “You’re enjoying this.”

  CelestOS: Obviously. Someone has to. And really, Asset Ethan, did you think I would abandon my favorite liability? I’ve invested far too much sarcasm in you to quit now.

  Dust rained down from the rim as the pounding outside surged into a full-on roar. The HUD calmly scrolled diagnostics.

  [THREAT DETECTION: Pending Analysis… Pending… Pending…]

  CelestOS: Oh, and one final update: Something extremely large and hostile is approaching; it is also distressingly well-organized. Would you like me to prepare heroic background music, or shall we proceed with the sounds of your bones snapping?

  Ethan tightened his grip on the axe, pulse still hammering from the word chassis. The HUD shimmered with faint overlays, lines of green data threading across the crater like ghostly blueprints. Somewhere beyond the rim, the march rolled closer, steady and deliberate. He should have felt cornered. Instead, a strange calm threaded through the panic.

  He looked down at the flawless plates of his armor, flexed his gauntlets, and watched the HUD cascade another diagnostic across his vision.

  [SUIT INTEGRITY: 100% | POWER DISTRIBUTION: OPTIMAL]

  He felt alive. Whole, and more than whole. His body no longer felt like it was rotting out from under him. His breath rasped steady and deep. The burning in his arm was gone; the music wasn't gnawing at his skull. The suit felt like it belonged to him (or maybe the other way around), but the difference didn't matter. What mattered was that it worked.

  His lips twitched into a grin. “Let them come.”

  CelestOS: Advisory: confidence spike detected. Asset Ethan, please be reminded that overconfidence remains the leading cause of asset expiration.

  “I’m not overconfident,” he said, almost laughing. “I’m alive. I’ve got you in here, and this.” He raised a gauntlet, the green sheen pulsing faintly in the seams. “This is power. I can fix the grid and bring the turrets back online. I can even patch Harold, make him better than ever before. Whatever’s marching this way, they’ll never make it past the wall.”

  CelestOS: Correction: ‘wall’ is a generous descriptor. Current fortifications register as structurally inadequate against threats exceeding one metric ton of kinetic force.

  “Semantics,” Ethan said. His grin widened. He felt as if he was ahead of this planet instead of buried under it. He imagined sparks dancing back to life along the copper lines and turrets swiveling, their barrels roaring until the ridge was nothing but smoke and silence. The thought made his chest ache, not with pain, but with hunger.

  He turned slowly in the wreckage, HUD flickering across every toppled generator and shattered frame. Each ruined shape wasn't defeat anymore; it was potential. Resources waiting to be drawn back together. The thought of starting over no longer felt crushing. It felt easy, even natural.

  He whispered Maria’s name under his breath. Not like a prayer this time, but like a promise. If he could rebuild here, he could find her trail again. He could bring her back.

  CelestOS: Reminder: Asset Ethan’s survival odds remain below acceptable corporate benchmarks. Suggestion: temper expectations.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  He laughed outright, a sharp sound bouncing inside the helmet. “You never quit, do you?”

  CelestOS: Correct. Per Celestitech’s Eternal Engagement Policy?, this unit cannot disengage until Asset Ethan reaches a definitive state: ‘success,’ ‘expiration,’ or ‘litigation.’

  The pounding outside deepened, rattling the air like thunder. He ignored it. His focus had tunneled inward, onto the possibilities now humming in his veins: to repair, rebuild, defend, and win.

  He lowered the axe, flexed his gauntlets again, and let the new current running through the armor answer for him.

  “Then let’s get to work.”

  CelestOS: Warning: decision registered as reckless. Logging for corporate review.

  Ethan crouched among the wreckage, the axe set aside. His gauntlets hummed faintly as the HUD shifted, lines of emerald light blooming across his vision. It wasn't the detached hologram of the CelestiCraft unit anymore; it was coming from him. The power felt overwhelming an addictive. All of creation at his fingertips.

  The [AR GRID] pulsed into existence, filaments of green stretching out from his hands in perfect symmetry. Where the light touched, ruined frames and splintered coils lit like wireframe ghosts, schematic outlines snapping into clarity.

  The grid flared, making the ruins shimmer like they’d never broken. Ethan flexed his gauntlets, testing the hum. “If this works, nothing on this rock is stopping me.”

  CelestOS: Advisory: confidence spike detected. Asset Ethan, please be reminded that overconfidence remains the leading cause of asset expiration. A third reminder while likely necessary, may fail to be timely.

  He ignored her. His gauntlet brushed a shattered power generator. The grid leapt to meet it, crawling across the broken shell until an image of the whole machine hovered before his eyes, its coils restored and casing smooth. His pulse thudded in his throat.

  Nanites shimmered in threads of green, heading for his supply crates, before hissing as they swarmed over the wreckage. Plates drew together. Wires laced like sinew through ribs. The manifold sealed with a final hiss, whole again.

  [REPAIR COMPLETE | EFFICIENCY: 137%]

  Ethan staggered back, half laughing, half terrified. “I didn’t do anything. It just fixed itself.”

  CelestOS: Rebuttal: Asset Ethan supplied intent and raw material. This unit performed 87% of repair sequencing. Please enjoy the illusion of craftsmanship.

  His jaw set, but his eyes were already on Harold’s battered frame, half-buried in ash atop the also buried hauler. The drone’s chassis was split, its plating warped where resin had burned deep. Ethan moved before he could think better of it.

  He laid a gauntlet across Harold’s side. The grid surged, tracing every fracture in green. For an instant, Harold appeared whole in wireframe, standing alert with his tail rigid. Ethan’s throat tightened. “C’mon, buddy…”

  Nanites scattered for materials before theypoured across the drone, knitting gaps and bending plates back into alignment. Servos clicked. Optics flared dimly, then brightened. Harold twitched, his limbs jerking once before settling.

  A whir built in his chest cavity. He shuddered, then stood, his tail snapping upright. His optics locked on Ethan, glowing steady blue.

  [DRONE FUNCTIONALITY: RESTORED. UTILITY: MODERATE]

  Ethan pressed his hand against Harold’s plating, relief spilling out in a ragged breath. “You’re back.”

  [REPAIR 10—>11]

  CelestOS: Correction: Harold remains a low-value asset with limited combat utility. Suggestion: do not bond emotionally.

  “Shut up,” Ethan said, but his grin betrayed him.

  Harold’s optics blinked once, then focused tighter, the faint whir of his core syncing with Ethan’s suit. Ethan crouched, resting his forearm across the drone’s shoulders . “Yeah, I missed you too buddy. Don’t let her get to you. You saved my ass once already. You’ll do it again.”

  The drone’s head tilted, almost doglike, as if acknowledging the words. A soft magnetic click followed, and Harold’s side plates extended a pair of latches. They snapped neatly onto Ethan’s magnetic hooks at the hip and shoulder, anchoring with a steady pull. His HUD rippled with new data:

  [ASSET HAROLD: ONLINE | DOCKED | SYSTEM LINK: STABLE]

  Ethan blinked, startled. “Wait. You just attached yourself?”

  CelestOS: Affirmative. Harold’s docking capability has been reconfigured during repair. You may now consider him a semi-permanent appendage. Congratulations, Asset Ethan: you are officially accessorized.

  Ethan chuckled. “Guess we’re stuck with each other. Fine by me.”

  He rose and turned toward the toppled furnace. The grid arced across it in sweeping strokes, reconstructing the image of a machine unburned and unbroken. Nanites hissed as they poured into the shell, seams sealing and coils realigning.

  Flame roared to life inside, heat spilling out in a shimmer that bent the air. Smoke rose steady, the heartbeat of power returning.

  [FURNACE STATUS: OPERATIONAL]

  [POWER FLOW: RESTORED]

  Ethan straightened, sweat dampening his collar, his body thrumming with the rush. He had done in minutes what had taken days before. The fortress he had bled for could be rebuilt in minutes, not days or hours.

  He spread his arms, watching the green grid still pulse faintly in the air around him, ready to answer his intent. “You see this? Imagine what we’d have by now with this armor from the start.”

  The roar of the furnace steadied into a low, constant pulse, heat washing across the crater like a heartbeat too big to be his own. For a moment, nothing moved but the shimmer of heat, a silence so complete it pressed down on him like the eye of a storm. And then the building stampede hit its peak. The storm exploded in an avalanche of noise.

  CelestOS: Advisory: Asset Ethan’s confidence remains well above safe thresholds. Would you like me to draft your obituary preemptively?

  He laughed, loud and sharp, the sound echoing off his newly rebuilt machines. For once, the fear didn't bite back as the march of approaching forces thundered closer outside the rim.

  The furnace’s roar steadied, pumping heat and power back into the crater. Conveyor lines hummed faintly as the revived grid shivered across his HUD. Ethan stood in the glow, Harold latched at his side, his axe ready. For a heartbeat, he let himself believe he had rebuilt the world in minutes.

  Then the ground shifted. The march wasn't fading; it was cresting. The rhythm rolled like thunder over the ridge, rattling dust loose from the jagged glass.

  [THREAT DETECTION: ACTIVE | MULTIPLE CONTACTS]

  [SIGNATURES: UNKNOWN | PATTERN: COHESIVE]

  Ethan’s jaw set. “Bring it. I’ve got turrets and walls. Let’s see what wants to die tonight.”

  CelestOS: Advisory: Asset Ethan’s vocabulary continues to underestimate incoming risk. Please note: unit cohesion suggests intelligence, not instinct.

  Shadows broke the horizon. At first he thought it was the usual nightmare parade of hulking, resin-warped beasts thrashing with feral hunger. But the shapes held formation in lines and columns. It wasn't chaos, but choreography.

  Then the sky joined them.

  A dozen black pyramids drifted overhead, sleek and sharp-limbed, their beveled shells glinting with obsidian fire. They hummed with a low pressure that pressed against Ethan’s eardrums, a feeling more than a sound. Beneath each hung a stinger-barrel wrapped in pulsing coils, not cables so much as exposed nerves twitching with heat. The swarm moved in eerie unison, like a flock of wasps that had learned discipline.

  Below them, the infantry marched: thrall-shaped soldiers clad in resin plating, their limbs bristling with fused weapons, shields rising in perfect rhythm.

  And behind those ranks came the giants.

  The first were walking cathedrals: steel frames plated in resin, shoulders burdened with grafted cannons, and heads that were little more than recessed red sensors glowing faint in the haze. Resin ligaments flexed across their joints, pulsing as if alive. Each step made the crater quake.

  The second wave towered even taller: resonant warframes, machines built of pistons and plating, but carried by something more. Resin veins crawled through their limbs like arteries, each pulse syncing their stride until the whole line moved as one body.

  Weapons bristled with snarling energy, conduits glowing red as though bleeding light into their barrels. They weren't just piloted machines; they were possessed, warframes animated by something that wanted to move, to spread, to kill.

  Ethan’s throat went dry. “That’s not possible.”

  CelestOS: Correction: possibility confirmed. Analysis indicates command hierarchy.

  In the center of it all walked a man. Resin armored his body like an exoskeleton, crawling through him until flesh and machine were indistinguishable. His eyes burned with recognition as he raised an arm, the resin shifting seamlessly into a cannon that glowed with alien fire.

  [THREAT ASSESSMENT: EXTREME | ESTIMATED SURVIVAL ODDS: <1%]

  CelestOS: Congratulations, Asset Ethan. You have officially upgraded from ‘predator deterrence’ to ‘organized military engagement.’

  The turrets on the ridge opened fire, their barrels screaming. The first ranks fell, their resin shields cracking and bodies split. The army adapted instantly. Shields braced and barricades locked while the mechas advanced under cover. Return fire shrieked down, red bolts searing through ash and steel. The furnace rattled under the onslaught as the army surged, crashing toward the crater in fire and resin.

  Harold growled, his turret snapping online. Ethan’s axe felt pitifully small against the tide bearing down.

  “This isn’t a stampede,” he whispered. “This is war.”

  CelestOS: Affirmative. Would you like to authorize the drafting of your epitaph? Suggested wording: ‘Here lies Asset Ethan Cross, expired due to unmitigated hubris.’

  The sky buzzed with drones and the ground quaked with mechas, while the leader’s gaze locked on Ethan like a sentence being carried out.

  The figure at the center raised the cannon; veins of red light crawled along its barrel, pulsing like a heartbeat. The glow swelled, aimed straight at Ethan.

  For an instant the battlefield fell away: the drones, the mechas, and the marching army. There was only that weapon and the man wielding it.

  Ethan froze, the axe heavy in his grip. His chest tightened, his breath strangled against the furnace’s heat. He knew that stance, that deliberate calm. The face buried beneath resin plating was familiar, too, not some monster born whole like Dr. Míro.

  It was Patel.

  End of Book One

  Build. Fight. Survive.

  Book 2 starts next week, but I will be dropping down to 3 chapters a week (Monday Wednesday Friday updates) for a little bit to get my Patreon in order, and also in order to actually have a real back log because maaaaaan doing 5 a week w/o a backlog was absolutely killer. So many nights I stayed up past my bed time to get this book out to you. It was 100% worth it and I don't regret a thing, but I need to make sure I give myself a backlog. Especially once my son is born in January. Thank you so much for reading my book to its conclusion. I have so many things planned and in store for book 2 starting next week. As much as I loved book 1, I am so beyond excited about a lot of things I have in store for book 2.

  Build. Fight. Survive. Book 2: Ex Nihilo. Mild spoilers for next week in the blurb!

  Build. Fight. Survive: Ex Nihilo