Chapter 7: The Sun in a Box

The plaza was silent, save for the rhythmic, aggressive humming of Champion Ignar’s armor. The air around him didn’t shimmer with heat; it warped with a sickening, gravitational vertigo.

Ignar stepped closer to the frozen metal giant, his staff igniting with a crackling, violet-black energy. To him, this “shell” was an insult. It was dead matter. It had no connection to the planet, no pulse of the Spire. It was a corpse trying to speak to the living.

“Prove ourselves, is it?” The bot’s eyes flashed red as Dan re-engaged the link from orbit.

“Yes,” Elder Cato nodded gravely, his hands tucked into his sleeves to hide their trembling. “If you wish for an alliance, you must show that your iron skin has teeth.”

“Through combat?” Dan asked, his voice filtered through the bot’s speakers, flat and unimpressed.

Champion Ignar spun his staff, a vortex of dark, entropic energy spiraling around him. “Afraid now, are we? I can unmake that casing before you take a step, Sky-Walker. You hide in the sky because you fear the ground.”

Inside the Epilogue, Dan sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose under the VR headset. “He thinks this is a tournament,” Dan muttered. “Ship, analysis on his output?”

[Entropic output is high, but unstable,] the AI replied. [It lacks the molecular precision of the Matriarch’s strike. It won’t breach the ablative plating, but the prolonged exposure and repeated hits will damage the body.]

“Our methods are not meant for show,” Dan said through the bot, amplifying the volume to drown out the crackle of Ignar’s fire. “They are meant to kill. And destroy. We do not spar.”

“Then fight me!” Ignar roared, slamming the butt of his staff into the stone. A shockwave of distortion blasted outward, cracking the stone tiles instantly. “Stop hiding behind words! If you are a warrior, bleed!”

“To put it simply,” the bot’s bass voice vibrated through the chests of the Councilors, “your capital will be gone if we are to fight here.”

Silence stretched across the plaza.

“Do you think I would believe that?” Ignar scoffed, looking around at the crowd for support. He saw fear in their eyes, but he mistook it for awe of his own power. “A bluff. A coward’s lie.”

“Ship,” Dan said quietly. “Show them the End.”

[DEMONSTRATION,] the AI interjected, its voice overriding the translation matrix’s diplomatic protocols.

The bot did not move its limbs. Instead, its eyes projected a high-fidelity hologram into the center of the Courtyard.

It was a simulation of the very plaza they stood in. In the simulation, the bot raised its arm.

There was no magical incantation. No gathering of mana. No chanting.

Just the roar of a rotary cannon and the hiss of chemical spray.

The simulation showed the single unit unleashing a barrage of kinetic rounds. The bullets didn’t just hit the target; they punched through the simulated Ignar, through the dais, and through the stone walls of the Council Chamber behind them. Dust and debris exploded outward. Then, the bot fired a canister of Napalm-B. Sticky, white-hot chemical fire splashed across the plaza, clinging to the simulated crowd, burning stone and flesh alike with an unquenchable fury.

[THIS IS INDUSTRIAL WARFARE,] the AI narrated, the voice devoid of emotion, which made it all the more terrifying. [OUR WEAPONS DO NOT DISTINGUISH BETWEEN WARRIOR AND CIVILIAN. A STRAY ROUND TRAVELS FOR MILES. CHEMICAL FIRE DOES NOT STOP UNTIL IT CONSUMES EVERYTHING. WE DO NOT FIGHT DUELS. WE ERASE GRIDS.]

The hologram faded. The Councilors stared at the scorch marks and bullet holes in the simulation, visualizing the slaughter of their people from mere stray fire.

Champion Vesper, the Silent Veil, stepped back, her mask of bone tilting slightly. She understood silence. She understood death. But this… this was an abomination. It was a death that did not feed the earth, but starved it.

Councilor Voros stared at the empty space where the simulation had just wiped out a regiment. Her warrior’s mind ran the calculations, cold and fast. The speed of the projectiles… the spread of the fire… She looked at Ignar, then at the Matriarch. Valerius could withstand it. The Champions might survive the initial volley if they were ready. But everyone else? The guards, the citizens, the rank-and-file soldiers?

They wouldn’t even have time to draw breath. It wasn’t combat. It was industrial extermination by a single machine.

“A bluff,” Ignar whispered, though his sweat was audible, sizzling against his armor. “An illusion. A trick of the light.”

“Councilors, would you like to try?” Dan asked coldly. “Our weapons are designed for total saturation. If I fire at him,” the bot pointed a metal finger at Ignar, “I kill everyone standing behind him. We do not wish to bring this chaos to your city. But do not mistake restraint for weakness.”

Elder Cato looked at the bot, his face pale. He saw the lack of honor in the simulation. It wasn’t a test of strength; it was a meat grinder.

“We understand,” Cato rasped, his voice barely audible. “Your art is… indiscriminate. We only need to know your prowess against the enemy. Not your capacity for collateral slaughter.”

“We do have options,” Dan conceded. “But again, it is not anything for the arena. It is for war. So take me to the frontlines.”

The sudden shift caught the Council off guard. Valerius blinked, her composure slipping for a fraction of a second. They were used to the slow, deliberate pace of the Spire Arts, where power required meditation and alignment. This creature spoke of war as if it were a switch to be flipped.

“Immediately?” Elder Cato asked, leaning forward. “You require no preparation? No alignment with the ley lines?”

“We bring our own power,” Dan replied.

Champion Kaelen stepped forward. The giant man looked at the bot with a new weight in his eyes. He understood the burden of power that could not be used. He felt a strange kinship with the machine—a monster that chose to keep its claws sheathed.

“I shall guide you, then,” Kaelen rumbled. “If you can kill the Hollow Ones without cracking the world, I will witness it.”

“I shall go as well,” Matriarch Valerius announced, stepping down from the dais. Her amethyst eyes were hard, calculating. She was terrified, but she was a leader. She needed to know if she was making a deal with demons or saviors.

“Valerius?” Elder Cato stood up, surprised. “You are the Matriarch. The front is no place—”

“I was the one who doubted them first,” she said, smoothing her robes. “And if they possess such fire, I will not let Kaelen bear the responsibility of watching it alone. If they are monsters, I will know. If they are saviors, I will know.”

She turned to the bot. “I shall abide by the risk.”

“Surprised,” Dan muttered on the bridge. “She has guts.”

[OK,] the bot boomed. [I WILL KNOW WHEN YOU ARE THERE. I SHALL PERSONALLY ATTEND. I SHALL LEAVE THIS SHELL HERE.]

“What do you mean, personally?” Voros asked, her hand tightening on her dagger.

[THIS UNIT IS A DIPLOMAT,] the bot said as its lights began to dim. [FOR WAR, I WEAR A DIFFERENT SUIT. LET US MEET AGAIN.]

The red light in the bot’s eyes died. The heavy limbs locked into place. The reactor whined down into silence.

The Envoy was gone.

---

The War Room

Back on the Epilogue, Dan ripped the VR headset off, gasping as the sensory disconnect hit him. The bridge felt too small, too quiet after the open air of the plaza.

“Ambrosio!” he barked, his voice hoarse. “Prep the AlterTerra bay. Wake them up.”

[You’re going down there?] the AI asked, its avatar flickering with concern. [Your biological body can’t handle the G-force of a drop pod, Dan. You’re ninety percent corrupted. Your bones are like chalk.]

“I’m not going in my body,” Dan said, moving to the Neural Link Chair—a much more invasive interface than the VR headset. It was a throne of needles and wires, designed to override the nervous system completely. “I’m going full immersion. Hard-link to the Mk-IV. If the bot gets hit, I’ll feel it. If it dies, my brain might fry. But I need the reaction time. I can’t have lag when fighting those things.”

He looked at the clone, Ambrosio, who was watching him with a mixture of admiration and fear.

“You keep the synthesis running,” Dan ordered. “If I get the samples, I’m sending a drone straight back up. Don’t wait for me.”

“Dan,” Ambrosio grabbed his arm. “Show them we aren’t just destroyers. Show them we are human.”

Dan smiled, a grim, soldier’s smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m going to show them precision. Ship, initiate the drop sequence. Target the Equatorial Front.”

[Aye, Commander. Dropping the hammer in T-minus 10.]