The interior of the Sector 4 Forge was a massive subterranean cathedral dedicated to mass production.
Rows of automated assembly lines stretched into the smog-choked distance, guarded by heavy overhead cranes that carried glowing ingots of raw titanium. At the center of the facility sat the Master Fabrication Tank—a three-story cylinder of reinforced quartz glass filled with shimmering, liquid carbon-nanites.
"There it is," Spike whispered, its lens whirring in excitement. "The high-tier stuff. If we can get your chassis into that fluid for three minutes, the System can run a full Vanta Black rewrite. No more scrap. No more corporate logos."
"Good," Vanta said, his golden eye-ring reflecting the white glow of the nanite fluid. "The sanitation pipe is beginning to irritate my internal logic parameters."
The floor of the forge was quiet, the automated systems running on a tight, computerized routine. But as Vanta approached the base of the tank, a heavy, metallic thud echoed from the gantry above.
A single figure dropped from the crane line, landing with a heavy thud that cracked the concrete tiles.
He didn't wear an exosuit. He didn't need one. He was a Hegemony Fabricator-Captain (Level 28), his entire body a terrifying symmetry of polished silver chrome and integrated weapon systems. His right hand was a multi-barreled plasma torch, and his chest plate bore the gold emblem of the High Board's Engineering Corps.
"An anomalous entity," the Captain said, his voice a smooth, synthetic chime. "Your structural composition is unmapped by the central mainframe. You are a resource leak. An optimization error."
"I am a customer," Vanta corrected, his voice dropping into that deadpan, metallic register. "And your tank is currently empty. I intend to occupy it."
The Captain's plasma torch flared to life, a three-foot needle of white thermal energy that hissed with a temperature of 5,000°C. "The fluid is reserved for corporate upgrades, scrap-rat. You will be recycled into raw iron ore."
[Target Identified: Fabricator-Captain Vance (Level 28)]
[Classification: Advanced Cybernetic Combatant]
[Win Probability: 62.4% (Due to incomplete chassis calibration)]
Vanta flexed his dark claws. "Sixty-two percent. Still well within my margin of audacity."