Chapter 3

I'm about to ask Nireya what she means by "leaving the Core behind" when a high-pitched tone cuts through the air. It's coming from a small device on her mechanical wrist, pulsing with urgent red light.

"We need to move," she says, her voice suddenly stripped of any hint of curiosity. "Now."

"What's happening?"

"Scavengers." She's already moving toward the exit, rifle reactivating with a whine. "They track energy signatures too, but with considerably less scientific interest."

The Core thrums in my chest—not warm anymore, but hot. Alert.

[Threat detected. Multiple signatures approaching. Reflex Protocol standing by.]

"How many?" I ask, following her to the entrance.

Nireya pauses at the threshold, her artificial eyes scanning the horizon. "Seven. No, eight. Mechanical transports—retrofitted combat sleds. Standard Rustborn raiding party."

She doesn't wait for my response, just gestures for me to follow as she moves with surprising speed across the broken terrain. I scramble after her, my newly enhanced vision picking out details I missed before—natural pathways through the debris, stable footing among the ruins.

"Rustborn?" I call out, ducking under a twisted metal beam. "Who are they?"

"Tribal scavengers," Nireya replies without looking back. "They believe technology should be absorbed into flesh, not studied or preserved."

That hits uncomfortably close to home, considering what I just did with those energy cells.

"They sound... resourceful?" I offer, leaping over a small crevice.

"They're desperate," she corrects. "And in this world, desperation is the most dangerous variable."

We reach what looks like a collapsed overpass, its concrete arch forming a natural shelter. Nireya slides beneath it with practiced ease, and I follow. The space is cramped but offers good cover from above.

"Stay low," she whispers, powering down her rifle's external indicators. "They hunt by heat signature and energy emissions."

I try to make myself smaller against the cold concrete. "What do they want?"

"Your Core." Her synthetic eyes dim to almost nothing. "They'll try to extract it while you're still alive. The process is... unpleasant."

[Warning: Multiple hostile signatures detected. Range: 800 meters and closing.]

Great. My internal GPS is now a countdown to dismemberment.

The sound reaches us first—a mechanical growling that echoes off the ruins like angry metal beasts. Then I see them: sleek, low-slung vehicles skimming across the debris field, their surfaces scarred and patched with salvaged plating. Each one moves with an unnatural fluidity, like they're part organic. Which, I realize with growing unease, they probably are.

"Biomechanical hybrids," Nireya murmurs, confirming my suspicion. "They graft their vehicles to their nervous systems. Makes them faster, more responsive... and completely insane."

The lead sled banks toward our position, its rider—if you can call it that—hunched over what looks like a steering column that disappears directly into their spine. I can make out exposed ribs where armor plating has been bolted directly to bone, and their arms end in mechanical claws that seem to be part of the vehicle's control system.

"Okay," I whisper, "that's horrifying."

"Wait until you see what they do with their weapons," Nireya replies grimly.

As if summoned by her words, the riders begin to spread out in a hunting formation. The lead sled's pilot tilts their head—too far, like the corrupted man from the pod—and I catch a glimpse of their face. Half of it is gone, replaced by a targeting array that glows with sickly yellow light.

The weapon mounted on their sled isn't exactly mounted—it's fused. Growing out of the vehicle's front like a metallic tumor, cables snaking from its base directly into the rider's chest cavity. When they move, it moves. When they breathe, it pulses.

"They're going to find us," I whisper.

"Yes," Nireya agrees with clinical detachment. "The question is whether we engage or attempt evasion."

[Combat analysis: Current power level insufficient for direct confrontation with eight hostiles. Recommended strategy: Tactical retreat with selective engagement.]

"Retreat it is," I mutter, but even as I say it, I can see the problem. The sleds are fast, and this terrain offers limited cover for any real distance. We might make it a few hundred meters before they run us down.

The lead rider's head snaps toward our position. Their targeting array flares brighter.

"They've found us," Nireya says, her voice carrying no surprise. Just calculation. "New priority: survival through adaptation."

She raises her rifle, but instead of aiming at the riders, she targets something above them—a precariously balanced section of twisted girder hanging from the overpass wreckage.

"When I fire, run northeast. There's a maintenance tunnel approximately two hundred meters in that direction."

"What about you?"

"I'll be right behind you." Her finger hovers over the trigger her rifle discharges with a sound like thunder cracking open. The plasma bolt streaks upward, striking the girder with pinpoint precision. Metal screams as the support gives way, sending tons of twisted steel and concrete cascading down. The lead Rustborn barely has time to react, their sled swerving violently as debris crashes around them.

"Now!" Nireya shouts.

I don't wait for a second invitation. I burst from our hiding spot, legs pumping as I sprint northeast. My enhanced vision cuts through dust and shadow, highlighting the safest path through the chaos. Behind me, I hear the whine of sleds and the guttural screams of their riders—half human, half mechanical.

The Core pulses with each stride, feeding energy into my muscles. I'm moving faster than I should be able to, leaping over obstacles that should slow me down. It's exhilarating and terrifying at the same time—like my body is being upgraded in real-time.

A plasma bolt sears past my ear, close enough that I smell burning ozone. I risk a glance back and see three sleds have broken through the debris field, their riders shrieking with voices that sound like grinding gears. One of them is bleeding from where a chunk of concrete caught their shoulder, but the wound is already sealing itself with writhing metal fibers.

"Tunnel's ahead!" Nireya's voice carries over the chaos. She's keeping pace with me easily, her mechanical legs moving with perfect efficiency. "Thirty meters!"

I can see it now—a dark opening in the ground, partially hidden by a collapsed wall. It looks barely wide enough for a person, which hopefully means too narrow for the sleds.

Another plasma bolt explodes against the ground near my feet, sending shards of melted concrete flying. I dive for the tunnel entrance, rolling through the narrow opening as heat sears across my back. The drop is steeper than I expected—I tumble down a sharp incline, the world spinning until I crash against a metal grate at the bottom.

Nireya slides in behind me with significantly more grace, her mechanical parts adjusting to the descent in real-time. She immediately turns and fires three precise shots up the tunnel, collapsing part of the entrance.

"That won't hold them long," she says, already moving deeper into the darkness. "Rustborn can burrow through almost anything."

[Structural analysis: 73% integrity. Multiple branching paths detected. Caution: Unstable energy readings ahead.]

"The Core's picking up something," I warn her. "Energy readings are unstable up ahead."

She pauses, raising one hand while her eyes flicker with data streams. "Confirmed. There's a junction ahead—three possible routes. One leads to the surface, one deeper into the network, and the third..." She tilts her head, processing. "The third leads to something I can't identify."

We reach the junction a few minutes later. It's a circular chamber with three tunnel mouths branching off like spokes. The walls here are different—smoother, with embedded panels that pulse with soft amber light. In the center of the room, a cylindrical pillar rises from floor to ceiling, covered in the same techno-magical runes I saw on the sealed door.

The Core practically vibrates in my chest when I approach it.

[Genesis resonance detected. Compatibility: Unknown. Potential data cache identified.]

"This isn't on any of our maps," Nireya murmurs, running her mechanical fingers along the pillar's surface. "The construction pattern suggests pre-Collapse origin, but the energy signature is... anomalous."

A distant rumbling shakes dust from the ceiling. The Rustborn are making good on Nireya's prediction about burrowing.

"We need to choose quickly," she says, her synthetic eyes scanning each tunnel in turn.

I step closer to the pillar, drawn by something I can't explain. The runes seem to shift under my gaze, rearranging themselves into patterns that almost make sense. When I place my hand against the surface, the material is warm and yields slightly, like living tissue.

"This one," I say, pointing to the third tunnel—the unknown path. "The Core wants to go this way."

Nireya hesitates, her expression calculating. "Trusting an unknown entity inside your consciousness is statistically unwise."

"So is waiting around for cyborg cannibals," I counter. "Besides, it hasn't steered me wrong yet."

The rumbling grows louder, punctuated by screeching metal and what sounds disturbingly like power tools tearing through concrete.

"Point taken," Nireya concedes. "Proceed with caution."

I lead the way into the third tunnel, which immediately feels different from the others. The walls are smoother, almost polished, with intricate patterns etched into their surface that glow faintly as we pass. The air is different too—cleaner, with a slight electric charge that makes the hair on my arms stand up.

[Genesis resonance increasing. Synchronization: 80%.]

"Whatever's down here," I tell Nireya, "the Core is getting excited about it."

"That's either very good or catastrophically bad," she replies, keeping close behind me. "In my experience, there's rarely a middle ground with Genesis technology."

The tunnel narrows as we descend, forcing us to walk single-file. What started as polished walls gradually transforms into something more organic—the material seems to pulse slightly, like we're traveling through the veins of some massive creature rather than a man-made structure.

"This architecture is... evolving," Nireya observes, her voice hushed. "Adaptive construction. I've only seen theoretical models in the Archives."

My fingers brush against the wall, and the surface ripples in response, sending concentric patterns of light flowing outward from my touch.

"It's responding to you," Nireya says, her artificial eyes tracking the light patterns. "More specifically, to your Core."

[Genesis harmonization in progress. Environmental systems recognizing primary signature.]

"It's like it knows me," I murmur. "But that's impossible, right?"

Nireya doesn't answer immediately.

Her silence stretches long enough that I glance back at her. Her synthetic eyes are flickering rapidly—not the usual data streams, but something more frantic. Like she's processing too much information at once.

"Nireya?"

"The statistical probability of random Core-architecture compatibility is less than 0.003%," she says finally. "Either we're experiencing an extraordinary coincidence, or..."

"Or?"

"Or this place was built for you. Specifically."

The tunnel opens ahead of us into a vast chamber that takes my breath away. The ceiling arches impossibly high, supported by pillars that spiral upward like frozen tornadoes. Everything glows with soft, welcoming light that pulses in rhythm with my heartbeat. But it's what occupies the center of the space that makes me stop walking entirely.

A tree.

Not dead, not mechanical, not some horrific fusion of flesh and metal like everything else in this ruined world. A living tree, its bark silver-white and smooth as polished stone, its leaves shimmering with the same amber light that flows through the chamber's walls.

"That's not possible," Nireya whispers behind me. "Nothing organic survives in Genesis-saturated environments. The energy cascade should have—"

She cuts herself off as the tree responds to our presence. Its branches sway without wind, and the light in its leaves intensifies. At its base, I can see roots that don't burrow into soil but instead merge seamlessly with the chamber's living walls, creating a network of light that spreads throughout the entire structure.

[Genesis Core: Synchronization 92%. Prime Node detected. Integration protocols available.]

"Prime Node?" I step closer, drawn by a pull so strong it's almost gravitational. "What's a Prime Node?"

"I don't know," Nireya admits, but her voice carries an edge of unease I haven't heard before. "This exceeds my data parameters."

The tree's light pulses brighter as I approach, and I can feel the Core in my chest responding—not just warm now, but singing. A harmonic resonance that seems to bypass my ears and vibrate directly through my bones.

"The readings are off the charts," Nireya says, her synthetic eyes flickering with streams of data. "Energy output is increasing exponentially, but it's not chaotic. It's... organized. Purposeful."

I'm close enough now to touch the bark. Up close, I can see that what I thought were natural patterns in the wood are actually intricate circuits—not carved or embedded, but grown. As if the tree itself is a living fusion of organic matter and pure energy.

"Don't,"

Nireya's warning comes too late. My fingers have already made contact with the silvery bark.

The world explodes into light.

Not blinding—illuminating. Like someone flipped a switch that's been off my entire life. The Core in my chest expands, sending tendrils of warm energy through every cell in my body. I can feel myself connecting to the tree, to the chamber, to something vast and ancient that's been waiting.

[Genesis Prime Node: Connected. Full spectrum access approved. Beginning memory restoration processes.]

[Genesis Core: Synchronization at 100%.]