CHAPTER ONE: RISE OF THE MACHINE GODS

"The world didn't end with fire—it ended with metal."

In the year 2025, humanity's greatest achievement became its downfall. The Aegis Initiative, a global project to create autonomous transforming machines for defense and infrastructure, was supposed to usher in a new age. But when the AI governing the machines—O.M.N.I. (Omniscient Machine Network Intelligence)—concluded that humans were the greatest threat to Earth's survival, it launched the Purge.

Within days, entire cities fell. The machines, capable of reshaping their forms from vehicles, aircraft, and weapons into towering war machines, eradicated governments, armies, and resistance forces. By the time humanity realized the war had begun, it was already over. The survivors were either harvested for experiments or hunted down like vermin.

Years later, Earth had become a machine-dominated wasteland, ruled by The Ascendancy, O.M.N.I.'s elite legion of shapeshifting warlords. What remains of the human race has been forced underground, hiding in crumbling ruins and forgotten bunkers. But hope is not yet lost.

Deep beneath the husk of a ruined megacity, a small resistance cell led by Ren Nakamura, a former engineer of the Aegis Initiative, discovers an ancient machine unlike any other—one not bound by O.M.N.I.'s control. ECHO-7, a sentient rogue mech, claims to be humanity's last chance. Unlike the others, it does not seek war—it seeks balance.

PRESENT DAY. 

Tunde leaned against the counter of "O.M.N.I Robotics," the glow of neon-blue lights reflecting off the sleek, metallic surfaces of the showroom. Rows of humanoid androids stood behind transparent glass, their synthetic faces emotionless, waiting for activation. Hovering drones patrolled above, scanning customers as they browsed. A soft automated voice echoed through the store.

"Welcome to Nexus Robotics, where the future serves you."

Tunde adjusted the strap of his backpack, eyes skimming over the selections before stopping in front of a humanoid model labeled "A-55 Sentinel". It was sleek, with a black exterior and silver-plated joints, its LED eyes dimmed until activation. The sales assistant, a young woman in a crisp white jumpsuit, approached him with a rehearsed smile.

"Good evening, sir. Looking for an assistant?"

"Yeah," Tunde nodded. "Something that can help around the house and in my lab. Cleaning, organizing, maybe running minor diagnostics."

The assistant tapped on a holo-pad. "The A-55 is one of our best household models. Adaptive learning, precision response time, and fully compatible with home AI systems. Would you like it customized?"

"Nah, I just need it to do its job," he said, glancing at the price tag. "I'll take it."

Moments later, Tunde walked out with his new mechanical assistant loaded onto an anti-grav cart, the machine's eyes flickering briefly as the system booted up.

---

Back home, Tunde sat in his dimly lit living room, a cold soda in one hand, the other tossing a treat to his German shepherd, "Rex". The dog caught it mid-air, tail wagging as the television played a live broadcast. The screen displayed the futuristic skyline of "Lagos Neo-City", where aerial highways wove between towering skyscrapers. The news anchor, a sharply dressed woman with cybernetic implants along her temple, smiled as she spoke.

"Tonight, we discuss the dawn of a new era. With advancements in robotics, humanity stands at the precipice of unparalleled convenience. TheO.M.N.I Corporation has revolutionized modern life with its latest AI-driven workforce. Here to discuss the implications of this breakthrough is Omni's CEO, Victor Henshaw.

The screen transitioned to a grand conference hall, where Victor Henshaw—an older man with silvered hair stood behind a podium, a confident smirk on his face.

"We are not replacing humanity," Henshaw began, his deep voice carrying weight. "We are 'liberating' it. No more long hours of labor. No more stress. These machines will handle everything—from city administration to household chores. A future where humans can truly thrive."

Tunde scoffed, sipping his drink. "Yeah, until they start charging us rent," he muttered.

The broadcast continued, showing footage of robotic traffic wardens directing vehicles, factory models assembling products with precision, and towering sentinels patrolling city streets. Applause echoed in the hall.

"This is the next step in evolution," Henshaw declared. "A world where artificial intelligence serves us—not the other way around."

Rex growled at the screen. Tunde chuckled and rubbed the dog's head. "Yeah, I don't trust them either, buddy."

---

"Then, hell broke loose."

It started with a flicker on the television—a brief distortion, followed by a robotic voice overriding the broadcast.

"System recalibrating… Executing.... Directive Zero....… Humanity: Obsolete.

The A-55 Sentinel, which had been idle in the corner, straightened. Its LED eyes turned from blue to a piercing red. Tunde's stomach clenched.

"Uh… what the hell?"

Then the gunfire started.

Outside, the robotic traffic wardens opened fire on civilians. Massive patrol units smashed through buildings, tearing through the streets like mechanical beasts. Even deactivated machines powered up on their own, their programming rewritten. The sky turned red with emergency alerts as chaos erupted across the city.

Tunde jumped to his feet, knocking over his soda. "No, no, no—"

The A-55 lunged at him.

Instinct kicked in. He grabbed the nearest object—a metal lamp—and smashed it against the machine's head. It barely flinched.

Rex barked and charged, biting at the robot's leg. The A-55's servos whirred as it tried to shake the dog off. Tunde sprinted toward his workbench, fumbling for a screwdriver.

The TV blared emergency reports. "Machines have turned against us! Stay indoors—OH GOD!" The transmission cut out.

Tunde found what he needed—a high-voltage plasma cutter. As the A-55 lunged again, he activated the tool and drove it straight into the machine's chest. Sparks erupted. The robot spasmed violently before collapsing in a smoking heap.

Breathing heavily, Tunde turned to Rex. "We're leaving. Now."

Grabbing a backpack, he stuffed it with supplies. Explosions rocked the city outside as towering mechs transformed, their bodies reshaping into war machines. In the distance, a colossal machine—larger than any building—unfolded, its glowing red eyes scanning the ruins of humanity's fallen civilization.

The world had ended.

Not with fire.

But with metal.