The Stellar-Vulture didn't drop into a planet's atmosphere. It dropped into a Shell.
Lot-12C, once known by its inhabitants as Aethelgard, was no longer a planet. It was a "World-Machine"—a nested series of metallic spheres, each one the size of a continent, spinning around a dying white dwarf star. From a distance, it looked like a rusted clockwork orange, bleeding sparks of blue electricity into the dark.
"Sully, tell me we aren't landing on that," Vance grunted, his iron-fists gripping the edge of the co-pilot's seat. "It looks like a giant's trash compactor."
"It's worse than that, Vance," Sully whispered, her Star-Seeker eyes flickering with rapid-fire data. "I can't find a single organic signature. No trees, no water, no... souls. Just a planet-wide broadcast of binary screaming."
[LOCATION: LOT-12C - THE FORGE-WORLD] [SYSTEM STATUS: CRITICAL FAILURE / LOGIC-LOOP] [THREAT LEVEL: HIGH-TIER (AUTOMATED)]
Kane stood at the viewport, his Void-Archon skin reflecting the dull, rusted light of the machine-world. Since his dive into the Aeon-Staff, his presence had changed. He didn't just smell like smoke anymore; he felt like a Weight in the room, a localized point of gravity that made the ship's artificial oxygen feel heavy.
"They didn't survive the Shift," Kane said, his voice a low vibration. "The Hegemony gave them the 'Machine-Rank' system. They thought they were becoming immortal. Instead, they just became hardware."
"Sully, find the Tier-10 Fabricator. It's in the core. That's where the 'Glitch' is hiding."
"Sarge, the core is guarded by Sentinel-Primes," Sully warned. "Those are Rank 9 constructs. They don't have blood to drink or minds to break. They're just... math."
"Then we'll show them some 'Subtraction,'" Kane hissed.