The Primes

The diary felt substantial—not only in its physical weight but also in its knowledge and pain. It was more than just a collection of theories and research; it was a window into the mind of a man who had faced the abyss and hoped, against all odds, to leave something behind for his daughter. It also served as a reminder of the fragile line between hope and despair that every Ranger felt in their lifetime. 

Tyson opened the diary and flipped through its pages. The handwriting was neat and methodical, filled with diagrams, notes, and calculations. Some pages were dedicated to theories about the tournament's mechanics, while others contained personal reflections—moments of doubt, determination, and love for his family.

One passage caught his eye:

"The tournament is not just a test of strength or skill—it's a test of the soul. Those who enter are stripped of everything they believe they know about themselves. It's not the monsters or the environment that break you; it's what you see in yourself when everything else is taken away. I hope, for her sake, Nancy never has to face that."

Tyson's chest tightened as he read the words. He thought of Nancy, her determination, and her desire to honor her father's legacy. Yet, he also felt the pain she endured, the weight of expectations she had from herself. 

The Meta-Bots: We acknowledge that these entities respond to our emotions and behave accordingly. In some instances, they assist us in overcoming challenges, whereas in others, they become challenges themselves. But that's not the whole story. I believe there's something more—something deeper—even if the head of the Research Department disagrees with my findings. These Meta-Bots are not just present with us; they are evolving alongside us.

Tyson paused, his eyes lingering on the passage. What does it mean to evolve alongside us? Could this being be alive?

He vividly remembered how his emotions drove his Meta-Bot into a berserk state. Although he acknowledged losing control at that moment, something else had fueled his anger—something internal yet unfamiliar.

Then there was the way the Meta-Bot responded to Nancy and her mother. It wasn't a random reaction; it felt deliberate, as if it recognized them. Unlike before, Tyson thought, when even Edward held it, there was no response at all.

The words of the report lingered in his mind: evolving, reacting, recognizing. These Meta-Bots were not ordinary machines; they were something more—something alive in a way that defied explanation.

The Meta-Bot was a marvel that continued to captivate humanity yet remained an enigma for all. No one had fully unraveled how these objects truly functioned or operated. This made Tyson more curious about it as he explored evolution-related topics, hoping to uncover the concept Nancy's father had mentioned.

The Primes or the pure ones,

I don't know what to call this phenomenon, but I've observed it in countless cases and armor worldwide. Whether it's Rangers or even Rogues, our armor always displays combinations of colors. For example, my own armor is white and black—a pattern that many share. Purely single-colored armor has never been seen in modern times.

However, that doesn't mean they never existed. I've encountered historical accounts suggesting that there were at least three individuals when Meta-Bots first appeared. I named them the Primes, each wearing single-colored armor.

Sadly, none of them survived. Since then, no one has received a Meta-Bot with those characteristics, even though these objects transfer to a new host upon the death of the previous one.

The three Primes—or Pure Ones—wore unique armor. One had black, another was orange, and the third remains a mystery. We don't know who the third Prime was or how they all died. However, one detail is consistent: all their armor featured a hint of gold intertwined with the base color.

I've attempted to draw researchers' attention to this subject, but we've found no credible evidence suggesting that the Pure Ones were extraordinary. Still, I believe they were distinct from the rest of us—stronger, perhaps. And one day, I will prove them all wrong.

Tyson became increasingly intrigued as he explored the topic of the Pure Ones or Primes. He had never encountered anything like it before—not from his master or anyone else. It felt as though no one was aware of their existence.

The claim that Meta-Bots chose a new owner after the previous one died was widely accepted as fact. However, why had these three Primes not resurfaced in modern times? If someone were to possess single-colored armor, they would undoubtedly stand out, drawing attention. Yet, Tyson had never encountered or even heard of such a person.

Could there be more to this? Perhaps the Pure Ones were connected to something humanity still didn't understand—something about how Meta-Bots selected their hosts. What criteria did these objects use? What laws governed their choices?

If the Prime Meta-bots had not chosen new hosts, could it be because they were extraordinary? And if it took this long, could it mean their significance was more remarkable than anyone realized? Tyson couldn't shake the thought that these Meta-Bots—these Pure Ones—were waiting for the right moment or person to wield them.

Tyson read the final passage about the Primes, in which Victor Winters expressed frustration. Victor found no evidence to support the notion that Meta-Bots evolved; however, he couldn't shake his belief that they should evolve alongside their human hosts.

Victor wrote: "I found out about the previous owner of my Meta-Bot. He had almost reached forty-five power points before being killed in an ambush set by the Rogues. It's unsettling to realize that something so integral to me once belonged to someone else."

Victor continued, "If my Meta-Bot was trained alongside him and is now trained alongside me, it must surely retain some fragment of information, some trace of its previous host. We need evidence that these Meta-Bots retain memories or abilities from past users or anything else, at the very least recognition."

Tyson's eyes widened as he read. He couldn't help but recall when his Meta-Bot reacted to Victor's family. It had shown something—recognition, familiarity—but was that enough to believe it held traces of its previous owners?

If Victor's theory is true, then why hasn't Tyson inherited Victor's power? When Tyson first acquired his Meta-Bot, he started with just three power points.

Victor's notes became more introspective: "I don't know where this research is leading me anymore. My friend Steve, a prominent member of the research institute, told me I was pursuing something that didn't even make sense. I understand his skepticism, but I cannot abandon this path. I must follow it wherever it leads."

"I've spent years developing this theory—that we can become one of the Primes or Pure Ones. I know how absurd it sounds, but it feels true to me. It has to be true... unless I've overlooked something crucial regarding this subject."

"Ever since I bonded with my Meta-Bot, I've studied it, analyzing its patterns and responses to my commands. Yet, all I've discovered is an endless, unfathomable maze."

"But then again, how many of us have truly tried to understand these Meta-Bots? I bet no one did. We've only tried to exploit their power for our own goals, overlooking our deeper connection with them. We've failed to comprehend their nature—and in doing so, our own. Because whether we like it or not, we are now intertwined with them."

Victor became passionate as Tyson read: "If anyone seeks to reach the level of a Pure One, they must first comprehend themselves as deeply as they understand their Meta-Bot. I think Enlightenment is the key. I realize how crazy that sounds, but listen to me."

"What makes humanity truly unique? Is it our intelligence? No, countless intelligent species exist throughout the universe. I personally believe that what sets us apart from them is our relentless hope. Even though we've never passed the tournament's first stage, we keep fighting, as if victory is inevitable. Our willpower is unmatched—it's something we can't fully comprehend. But what if we could harness it? What if that hope and willpower are the keys to enlightenment?"

Victor's last words echoed with defiance and hope: "I need to work on this. I know no one believes me, but I can still hope. After all, isn't that what makes us human?"

Tyson smiled as he closed the diary. "Yes, we are indeed human." He chuckled softly to himself. "Stupid humans... we never know when to give up."

He tossed the diary onto his desk and fell back onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling. "It's too much to process."