Derek stepped into the cold, echoing emptiness of the simulator chamber. The Repair Bots drifted beside him, their ion engines humming softly just above the floor. When he stopped, they lowered themselves with him, landing in perfect sync.

  The chamber was bare except for the massive crystals rising from each corner. Their glow shifted through faint hues of blue and green. The “technology” that powered the simulator, capable of reproducing almost any environment and testing magic up to Bronze rank.

  He tapped his earpiece twice. “Okay, Vanda. You hearing me?”

  “As always. Why? Were you expecting something different?”

  He exhaled through his nose. “Yeah… I mean, no. It’s just—last time I was here, things didn’t end great. And this time I don’t even have NOVA with me. Guess I’m a little on edge.”

  “Yes, Derek. Understandable. I find it healthy that you occasionally experience at least a trace of fear before diving headfirst into one of your reckless ideas.”

  “I’m not scared. And it’s not a reckless idea.”

  “Oh no? What a pity.”

  He grimaced. “Seeing the Bots 2.0 in action before taking them into the field will be useful. I need to know their tactical limits. Otherwise I’ll be flying blind.”

  “And Chuck?” Vanda asked. “Ithara’s golem, that lump of dirt and mud, is supposed to help with these tests?”

  Derek shrugged. “Target practice, like any other. I’ll warm up the Bots’ plasma cannons and turn that oversized paperweight into rubble. Then I’ll have Ithara spawn a few simulated demons to give them a real workout.”

  “Ithara seems attached to Chuck,” Vanda said, her tone carrying an oddly human note of concern.

  Derek nodded. “Yeah, she gets feelings for the weirdest things.” He rubbed at his beard. “Don’t think she’s ever managed the same with people, though.”

  “Indeed,” Vanda replied, her sigh perfectly synthesized. “You two have so much in common.”

  He blinked. “Uh…” Sure, she was taking a jab at him, but she wasn’t wrong. On this strange world called Elyndra, Ithara might actually be the closest thing to him he’d ever met.

  Maybe he should ask her out sometime.

  He sighed and fiddled with the metal frame in his hands. “You sure I need these things?”

  “They’re called glasses, Derek.”

  “Yeah, I know what they’re called. Went to museums as a kid, thanks. I’m just asking why I need them when my eyesight’s fine.”

  “It’s an old augmented reality system. The Repair Bots built them specifically for you.”

  He blinked. “Wait, they came up with this? I figured it was your project.”

  “What difference does it make?”

  “Well, I trust you. Them? They already threatened me with their tiny rapid-fire plasma cannons.”

  “I see. If it helps, I supervised the project with Ithara. Together we developed an AR system to compensate for NOVA’s missing HUD. It’ll feed you tactical data, vitals, environmental scans… everything you’d normally see inside the armor.”

  He slid the glasses on. The world sharpened into layers of faint light and shifting glyphs.

  The Repair Bots lifted off again, ion thrusters whining at a higher pitch.

  “Try the voice commands,” Vanda said.

  “Alright. Weapons!”

  With a metallic snap, both Bots unfolded the chrome barrels of their plasma cannons. They looked like toys compared to NOVA’s, but made up for it with a much higher rate of fire.

  Two small rectangles lit up in the corner of his display.

  “What are those?”

  “Their remaining plasma charge. When the bars run dry, they’re out.”

  “Right. And without NOVA’s reactor handy, I can’t recharge them.”

  “Correct. So don’t waste their ammo.”

  “Waste it? I thought they acted on their own.”

  “They do. But now they’ll also obey your voice commands. You can issue basic orders. Attack, defend, regroup. It’s intuitive enough, but if you want the full list, open the tutorial.”

  Derek frowned. “And where do I… oh right, voice command.” He scratched his head. “Tutorial.”

  His voice echoed through the silent chamber.

  The air shimmered. Lines of glowing text and shifting icons filled his vision. Tables, graphs, and an entire list of voice commands. ‘Follow me,’ ‘Hold position,’ ‘Pursue target,’ ‘Attack,’ ‘Self-repair.’ Some made sense immediately. Others—like “Ascend”—left him wondering. Lift something? Carry? Hard to tell. The interface was clean, methodical. Give him a week or two, and he might even make use of it.

  “Close tutorial.”

  The display blinked off.

  “Impressive, Derek,” Vanda said, dripping with mock drama. “You read so quickly.”

  “Tsk. Don’t need a manual for a pair of glasses.” He shook his head. “Come on, let’s get this rolling.”

  A dull thud rolled through the chamber floor behind him, heavy as a rockslide. Then another. And another, closer each time.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  He turned.

  Chuck lumbered forward, each step a deliberate quake. Behind him, Ithara practically vibrated with excitement, darting around the golem with that wild grin of hers, curls bouncing like sparks from a forge.

  “Hey, Derek! You’re early!”

  The overlay clock on his glasses said otherwise. He shook his head. “Not really. You were supposed to be here half an hour ago.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Let’s just get started. I need to see what these two can do.” He jerked his chin toward the Bots.

  Ithara frowned, arms tightening across her chest. “You could start by not calling them ‘these two.’”

  He blinked. “Are you seriously suggesting I give my Bots names?”

  “Exactly. Naming them builds team spirit when you’re working together.”

  He looked from one floating cylinder to the other. Red LEDs pulsed on one dome, yellow on the other, otherwise identical.

  “Not happening,” he said. “It’s dumb. Besides, I’d mix the names up every five minutes. Now can we start?”

  “Not until you name them.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Maybe I should just order them to blast your precious Chuck instead.”

  The red-lit Bot lifted higher, thrusters flaring with a guttural hiss. A sharp metallic click split the air as its front panel slid open, revealing the stubby plasma cannon now humming with power. The barrel glowed, steady and menacing, locked on the little golem.

  Chuck just stared back. Two tiny glassy eyes fixed on the weapon, blank and unblinking, as if too dumb to understand the danger.

  “Hey! Stand down,” Derek barked. “I didn’t say fire. Put the artillery away.”

  The weapon folded back with a whine, the Bot sinking a few feet as the glow faded.

  Beside it, the yellow-lit Bot bobbed in place, its engine buzzing sharply like an impatient wasp.

  “See?” Ithara arched a brow. “Not identical at all, like you claimed.”

  Derek dragged a hand down his face. If naming them was the only way to move on, fine. He could humor her for now. He exhaled through his nose. “Alright.” He pointed at the aggressive red one. “You’re Shade.” Then at the yellow one. “And you’re Sunny.”

  Ithara lit up. “Shade and Sunny? I love it!” She spun toward the golem. “Did you hear that, Chuck? They’re Shade and Sunny. Shade and Sunny, this is Chuck.”

  Shade’s ion engines rumbled with a low growl, while Sunny bounced a few times in the air like an excited puppy.

  Chuck didn’t so much as twitch. Its hollow sockets stayed fixed on the Bots, unblinking.

  Derek rubbed his forehead. A headache was already settling in. “Great. Now that everyone’s acquainted, Shade and Sunny are going to tear Chuck apart with plasma fire.”

  “Wait!” Ithara cut in.

  He groaned. “What now? You want them in matching aprons too?”

  The scholar shook her head quickly. “That’s not how this will work. First, we need to set the stage. We can’t just make them fight in an empty hall. This is a simulator. We should recreate a plausible scenario, something they’d actually face.”

  Derek had planned to blast Chuck first and get that useless variable out of the way, but fine, this could work too.

  “Alright then. I’d suggest something close to what we’ll face down below. Narrow corridors, crumbling floors, weird inscriptions… stuff like that.”

  Ithara rubbed her chin. “I think I have exactly what we need. And I already know what kind of creatures to pit them against.”

  He blinked. “Wait, what? I thought they were supposed to fight each other.”

  “And why on Elyndra would you think that?”

  “You called it a challenge,” he said. “How’s it supposed to be one if they’re on the same side?”

  “The simulator doesn’t just generate environments. It evaluates performance and assigns a score. That’s how we measure the potential of spells and devices.”

  He frowned. “So the challenge is whoever scores higher?”

  She nodded. “Exactly. Besides, Chuck is a defensive golem. How could he possibly attack your floating fire-stick machines effectively?”

  The corner of Derek’s mouth twitched upward. Maybe she wasn’t as naive as he’d assumed.

  Ithara narrowed her eyes. “Did you really think I’d let my Chuck get shredded without a way to defend himself?”

  He shrugged. “More or less.” A sigh slipped out. “Figures. Nothing on this damned planet is ever easy.”

  He turned to the hovering Bots. “Alright, then. Let’s see how Sunny and Shade handle a simulated conflict.”

  Derek watched Ithara fussing over a table covered in colored pebbles, rune-etched stones, and little piles of shimmering powder. The whole setup looked disturbingly like one of those junk stalls he’d seen at the Rothmere marketplace.

  Beyond the glass stretched the simulator’s vast empty chamber. Chuck, Sunny, and Shade stood motionless inside, waiting for whatever came next.

  He wasn’t sure if the Bots had any clue what was about to happen. Whatever went through their processors had been a mystery for a while now. Still, the fact that they were holding position—exactly as instructed—counted as progress.

  He scratched the back of his head. “What’s that table supposed to be?”

  “Simulator control system,” Ithara said without looking up. “I use it to define the scene, set parameters, and calibrate safety levels.”

  He raised a brow. “Safety levels?”

  “Yes. The simulator is designed for absolute safety. By default, all damage is virtual. But sometimes it’s useful to loosen the limits a bit, allowing a small fraction of it to be real.”

  He rubbed his beard. “So people can actually get hurt in there?”

  Ithara shook her head. “A bruise, maybe a mild burn. Nothing serious. The system won’t allow lethal injuries.” She glanced up with a faint smile. “If you’re looking to get seriously hurt, you don’t need a simulator for that.”

  Derek nodded. Made sense. And yet, the last time he’d stood in this chamber, the “simulation” had almost killed him. If NOVA hadn’t triggered that strange new energy it absorbed, he’d be a smear on the floor. Whatever had gone wrong back then, nobody had managed to explain it.

  Semi-transparent lines of purple energy flared above Ithara’s table, bending and twisting with her movements as if alive.

  The glow caught in her eyes, staining them violet. “It’s ready,” she whispered.

  The view beyond the glass shattered into a whirl of color, folding in on itself until the emptiness transformed into a narrow, dim corridor.

  Dirt and gravel crunched underfoot, the walls jagged rock that seemed to breathe with faint veins of light. The Bots and the golem now stood side by side, their backs to the viewport, the corridor stretching ahead far longer than the simulator could possibly hold.

  Derek blinked. “Did they just move?”

  “No,” Ithara replied. “The viewpoint follows whichever subjects we select. Advanced illusion magic. Don’t strain yourself trying to understand.”

  He arched a brow. He liked her better when she was calling him the greatest genius alive. Still, she wasn’t wrong. He didn’t have the faintest idea how this so-called ‘magic’ actually worked.

  “What’s the scenario?” he asked.

  “A reconstruction of the lowest ruin level beneath the Citadel,” she said. “Built from testimonies and ancient records. In theory, it’s where you’ll be going eventually.” A faint smile crossed her lips. “Fitting for the occasion, don’t you think?”

  “How accurate is it?” Derek asked.

  “Not very,” Ithara admitted. “The sources were vague at best.”

  “Got it.”

  The Bots lifted smoothly off the ground, engines droning like giant trapped flies. Chuck lumbered ahead, each step heavy but muffled by the dirt floor, until he vanished beyond the frame.

  Moments later, the Bots drifted after him, the camera view sliding forward to follow the trio.

  “Very well,” Ithara said.

  “They’re just walking down a corridor. Maybe that’s impressive for Chuck, but I expect a little more from my Bots.”

  Ithara shot him a sidelong glance. “Your Bots formed up correctly. They’re keeping Chuck in front as a shield. That’s exactly what they should do. You should be proud of them.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Sure. As soon as this sim’s over, I’ll take them to the playground and buy them candy.”

  The look she gave him could have frozen lava.

  “Anyway,” he said, “what creatures are you throwing at them? Demons?”

  Ithara shook her head. “Underground, Orbisar’s spheres can’t reach. No corrupted beasts, no demons.”

  Good. He’d had his fill of anything born from that twisted energy. “Fine. So what’s waiting for them?”

  “Reports from larger Citadels mention beings of metal that breathe fire, and other anomalies of that sort,” she said. “I don’t know how accurate those accounts are, or what those creatures really looked like.”

  He scratched his beard. “Ithara, if there aren’t detailed records, odds are those reports are garbage.”

  “Probably.” She shifted a few violet crystals across the stone table. Their glow brightened, then pulsed irregularly.

  Her brow tightened. “Strange. I’m picking up fluctuations in the magic field.”

  Symbols Derek didn’t recognize flickered across his lenses. “You’re right. I’m getting odd readings too. Vanda?”

  “Running analysis,” she replied through his earpiece. “NOVA is far from your position, with several layers of interference between. Signals are degraded. I need time to build an algorithm to amplify and clean the data.”

  “Fine,” Derek muttered. “Just hurry. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

  Ithara’s hands flew over the table, weaving through the floating purple lines with surgical precision. Her eyes tracked every shift of light, sharp and focused.

  Where the hell had her clumsy side gone? She moved like someone who’d done this a hundred times.

  “Now… it’s stabilizing,” she said at last.

  The symbols on Derek’s lenses blinked twice, then vanished. He adjusted the glasses on his nose. “Yeah. Looks stable on my end too.”

  “The signal’s gone,” Vanda confirmed. “Whatever it was, it lasted too briefly to identify source or nature.”

  The simulated corridor still held steady. The Bots hovered in formation, lights pulsing softly as they followed the golem’s heavy steps into the dark.

  Derek rubbed his chin. “I see. Ithara?”

  “All good,” she said, her shoulders easing. “The magic flow is stable again and it looks like the creatures for this test have finally spawned.”

  He nodded. “Alright. What are we dealing with?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Derek turned back to the simulator feed. “When do they show up?”

  A smile curved Ithara’s lips. “In one second.”

  A grid flashed across his vision. He pulled the glasses off, and it vanished. “What the hell was that?”

  “Proximity detector,” Vanda said. “Not as advanced as NOVA’s minimap, but it should help track potential threats.”

  “What sensors is it using?”

  “It’s calibrated to the Bots’ systems.”

  He slipped the glasses back on. The grid returned—tiny red dots pulsing closer to the center. Above it, a small label read Shade.

  Derek frowned. “Vanda, did you put that name there?”

  “No, Derek. According to the log, you’re viewing the feed from the red-light unit. It labeled itself as Shade.”

  He blinked. Unbelievable. They’d heard him and now they were using the names he’d made up just to humor Ithara.

  Were they actually developing self-awareness? Back home, in a lab, that would’ve been a scientific breakthrough. Here, on this godforsaken planet—depending on them for survival—it could be catastrophic.

  A flash of white light tore through the corridor. A split-second later, a screech of metal-on-metal ripped through the speakers, sharp enough to make Derek flinch. He threw up an arm to block the glare.

  When the light faded, his gut clenched.

  The Bots were gone.

  Or rather, what was left of them.

  Fragments littered the corridor, twisted, blackened, still smoking. A dome with a yellow LED lay at Chuck’s feet, a clean hole burned straight through its center. The golem stood motionless, unharmed, its stone head turning in slow, uncertain arcs as it searched for the source of the attack.

  Derek’s heart jolted. He slammed a fist against the table. “What the hell just happened?”

  Before Ithara could answer, something materialized in front of Chuck.

  It hovered in midair. Its body was a gleaming metal sphere bristling with four massive spikes that flexed like claws. Two curved horns arched from its top, and in the center, a hollow socket burned with a searing red light.

  No one had time to react.

  The thing lunged at Chuck.