Falling into the Simulation pt 4

"This shell contains a very common material called lithium. And we have the most common animal on this planet in captivity. Do you know what that means?"

Eleonora seemed to have an instant realization. Her eyes lit up, and unable to contain her excitement, she jumped with joy. However, the siblings still didn't understand what was happening and needed an explanation. This time, it was Eleonora who stepped forward to clarify Tyrin's words.

"Zenthral," she whispered, almost breathless.

Damian's eyes widened. "The rarest metal in the universe... Are you saying this shell is made of it?"

Tyrin shook his head. "No. But when we offer this shell to the scorpiones, they process it and excrete the raw metal."

The siblings were speechless. Not even they knew how Zenthral was produced. In fact, this knowledge was a closely guarded secret among the nobles, but Gertrudes had allowed Tyrin access to this information.

"Alright, we have the material. But how are we going to shape it?" Cassandra asked. "As far as I know, Zenthral requires the energy of a star to be properly forged, it's that strong."

Tyrin nodded. Having the metal meant nothing if there was no way to use it. And that was exactly why he had visited the munitions house. What he found there would surprise everyone.

"They lied about it being here," he murmured. "Now it all makes sense. I thought it was just a useless piece and ended up forgetting about it."

"What are you talking about?" Damian asked, confused, as Eleonora and Tyrin looked at a large two-by-two-meter crate.

"This, Damian, is a body armor projector." Tyrin pressed a button on the side of the device, revealing a small needle emerging from a compartment.

"And how does it work?"

"You register your signature here," Tyrin explained, pointing to the needle. "And on the other side, we place the material we want to turn into armor. When I first saw this, I figured it might be useful. I don't know how many times we can use it, but I know it works."

Cassandra's eyes widened. "Wait... Are you telling me we'll have the same armor the Ultras use?"

Tyrin grinned. "If everything goes well, by tomorrow, we'll have at least two complete sets of armor. But we'll have to work hard for it. Have the scorpiones reproduced yet?"

Damian rushed toward the farm. When he arrived, he was stunned. In just one night, nearly sixty scorpiones had been born.

"Holy shit..." he muttered. "They reproduce and grow way too fast! How the hell do we control this?"

"Somehow, when the population reaches a certain limit, the new hatchlings are born sterile," Tyrin replied, now watching the scorpiones mate frantically. "That's why Miral came to this planet long before Zenthral."

Damian frowned. "Are you saying Lursa Onyxia was here?"

The siblings exchanged confused looks until Eleonora clarified, referring to Miral by the name she was best known for.

"That was before she had her dragon, Eleonora," Tyrin corrected.

"I know, but the truth is, few people would even know who she was if not for the dragon."

Tyrin fell silent. He knew very well who was behind that name, and even Eleonora recognized it. However, after Lursa obtained her dragon, her reputation ceased to be about her actions and became solely about her possession. And that bothered Tyrin in a way he couldn't explain.

Shaking his head, he refocused. "Anyway, we need to feed the scorpiones. It's going to be a long night, and we'll need food. Cassandra and Eleonora, set aside ten for our dinner. Damian and I will separate the Belzebuth carcasses to feed the scorpiones."

Night had already fallen when Tyrin and Damian, exhausted, collapsed onto the sand.

"Fuck..." Damian groaned. "My feet can't take it anymore."

Tyrin smiled, despite his exhaustion. "We did it, Damian. Tomorrow is a rest day. Everything's going to be fine."

"Boys, dinner's ready!" Eleonora called. "And have you taken a bath yet?"

Damian laughed sarcastically. "Do you see a shower anywhere around here?"

"The lake," Cassandra replied, pointing toward the water. "That's where you two need to bathe."

"No fucking way!" Damian protested. "Do you see how cold it is? I'll do it tomorrow."

"Oh, you're taking a bath, alright! Mom raised us better than that." Cassandra pulled out a small pistol—not lethal, but enough to make Damian bolt toward the lake, clothes and all.

Tyrin watched the scene, exhausted but unable to hide a small smile. Cassandra always knew exactly how to handle Damian, just like their mother used to. Inspired by the memory, he stood up and headed toward the water, barely paying attention to Cassandra yelling behind him.

"If you come out of there naked, I'll kill you!"

"But sis, it's freezing!"

"Get down right now, or I swear I'll shoot! GO!!!"

Eleonora laughed at the siblings' bickering, but her laughter quickly died when her gaze fell on Tyrin. He was submerged up to his waist, eyes fixed on the sky. The tattoo covering his back glowed in silver and gold under the moonlight. A wolf. Majestic and fierce.

That's when she noticed something she never had before—Tyrin's body was far more defined than she had imagined, every muscle perfectly sculpted, as if carved by war itself. She felt her face heat up and quickly looked away, only to catch Cassandra staring at Tyrin with the same intensity.

The two locked eyes and blushed.

"What the fuck is going on here?" Damian shouted, breaking the moment. "Tyrin, get down, you're distracting my sister."

"You son of a bitch! Take this!" Cassandra splashed a jet of water at Damian, making him flail, laughing.

"Oh my God, Cassandra! You're gonna kill me, stop it!"

Tyrin turned, watching Cassandra try to drown her brother while Eleonora kept sneaking glances at him. But the moment he noticed, she quickly looked away.

"Hey, Tyrin… why is your tattoo so different from mine? I mean, look at the size of that thing."

Tyrin remained silent for a moment, remembering the pain of being tattooed and the gene that had nearly killed him.

"I guess my people like big tattoos."

Eleonora tilted her head, analyzing the intricate details of the design.

"On my planet, when we wanted to hide something, we'd make massive tattoos to cover up what was really meant to be seen."

"But isn't that illegal?" Cassandra asked.

"Technically, the law only says the tattoo has to represent your animal. It doesn't say it has to be obviously visible." Eleonora frowned. "I never understood the Elders. Who the hell hides a tattoo inside another tattoo? Besides, each planet basically has its own pre-selected beast."

She turned to Damian, her gaze sharp.

"Pretty boy, what's your last name?"

Damian blinked, caught off guard. "Acinonyx. Why?"

"Cheetah Clan, right?"

His eyes widened. "How do you know that?"

"Because I study clans and bloodlines. Just like pretty boy over there," she gestured toward Tyrin with a small smirk. "But apparently, he's better at it than I am. Isn't that right, Tyrin No-Last-Name?"

Tyrin narrowed his eyes at Eleonora, who only smiled innocently.

"My planet was a wolf planet. We used to have last names a long time ago, but that died when our twin planet was destroyed."

A silence fell over them. Eleonora leaned forward slightly.

"Your twin planet?"

Tyrin sighed. "Helheim 74A. During the Human Expansion, it was considered a strategic point. But now… we're just vassals of Baron Konen."

Eleonora pressed her lips together. "I know that baron. He controls a few planets, mostly ones with Essential Clans. That's why he's respected. But take that away, and he's nothing more than a washed-up noble."

Tyrin simply nodded and returned to his bath. Neither Damian nor Cassandra said anything else. They weren't nobles, but they had always lived comfortably. For Tyrin, that reality was different. He had no choice.

Eleonora reflected on her words. She hadn't meant to make Tyrin feel bad, but she realized the conversation had taken a turn she hadn't anticipated.

That night's dinner was quiet. Few words were exchanged. No smiles were shared. The physical and emotional exhaustion weighed on everyone, and another day of work and preparation awaited them.

The next day began before the first ray of sunlight. The sky was still a black canvas dotted with distant stars when Tyrin and Damian were already up, preparing the final batch of shells to be fed to the Scorpiones. The metallic scent hung thick in the air, and their hands were covered in the shimmering residue of the process. Cassandra and Eleonora had spent most of the night tending to the Scorpiones, patiently separating the organic matter from the metal and feeding the machine that would shape the armor.

Time moved mercilessly. The clock in the sky pulsed a deep red, and though no one said it aloud, they all knew what it meant: the next attack was scheduled for the following day.

Tyrin believed this information gave them an advantage. But as always, Custer—the professor in charge of the simulation—seemed to enjoy pushing his students to their limits. He had synchronized the attacks of all the teams, ensuring that each group had just enough rest before the final battle. This meant there would be no room for elaborate strategies. It would be a straightforward fight, no tricks.

After hours of grueling work, Tyrin and Damian finally collapsed onto the hot sand, panting.

"God, I think I need to sleep for three days," Damian groaned, covering his face with his arm. "How the hell can we be this tired in a fucking simulation?"

Tyrin, just as exhausted, let out a deep sigh before answering. "It's all psychological, Damian. You'll see when we get out. Your real body is just resting, but your mind believes it's actually working."

Before Damian could reply, Cassandra appeared, hands on her hips and a stern expression on her face.

"Hey, you two. Are you done cleaning the outer area? You still need to get the Belzebuths out of the pit, too."

Damian groaned in protest. "For fuck's sake, sis! Why don't we just leave them there? I'm dying here."

"Get up already, you lazy ass," she ordered, giving his leg a light kick.

Tyrin was about to get up when Eleonora approached, gesturing for him to follow her discreetly. He frowned, realizing she wanted to speak in private.

"What is it, Eleonora?"

She crossed her arms, hesitating before finally speaking.

"We only have enough material for one set of armor," she revealed. "I already talked to Cassandra, and we think you should be the one to wear it."

Tyrin blinked, surprised. "That doesn't make sense. What about you guys?"

She smirked slightly. "Well, I'm sure we can survive one more attack with you on the front line. If you hold the fight, we can win."

"Does Damian know?"

"Not yet, but I believe he'll agree," she said with confidence.

Tyrin remained silent for a few moments. He wanted to win, but he wasn't entirely sure how the professor's rules worked.

"If I survive and we win, will we all receive the finalist ranking?"

Eleonora nodded. "Yes. I read the rules before we got here, so yes, we all pass."

He considered it for a moment, feeling the weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders. But in the end, there was only one possible answer.

"If Damian agrees… I'll do my best."

That night, dinner was different. There was no tension or hesitation. Cassandra and Eleonora had already decided that Tyrin would wear the armor, and surprisingly, even Damian seemed content to leave that role to him. It was rare to see him accept orders without complaint, but this time, he seemed to understand that this was the best strategy.

"All right," Cassandra said, resting her elbows on the cold sand.

"Tomorrow is the day of the fight. Are we ready?"

"Absolutely," Damian replied, chewing his food with more energy than usual. "I'm just glad I'm not the one who has to wear that giant thing."

Tyrin raised an eyebrow. "You say that like you wouldn't want to."

"Of course not! I like running, not being a walking target!" Damian laughed.

Eleonora looked at Tyrin. "Can you follow me?"

He nodded, curious. Together, the four of them made their way to the munitions room. When they arrived, Tyrin stopped at the door, stunned.

There, in the center of the room, rested his new armor.

It was imposing, forged from the Zenthral metal extracted from the Scorpiones and shaped to fit his body perfectly. Its structure was an amplified replica of Tyrin—robust and powerful, yet maintaining the flexibility needed for combat. The light reflected off its metallic surface with a silver and black sheen, giving it an almost predatory appearance.

"So this is an Ultra's armor?" Tyrin murmured, stepping closer.

"Pretty badass, huh?" Damian grinned. "You'll be around 2.5 meters tall inside that thing."

Tyrin ran his fingers over the armor's smooth surface, feeling its cold texture and the weight of the responsibility now placed upon him. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. Then, he murmured to himself:

"I'm ready."

Eleonora heard the words, and without meaning to, a smile formed on her lips. Her heart pounded a little harder, and for just a moment—just one moment—she allowed herself to believe that everything would turn out fine.