MODULE ONE: RESONANCE FIRST PART

We always thought the end of the world would come from space, didn't we? Asteroids, alien invasions, the sun dying... Dad used to say that scientists spent decades looking up, while the real threat had been sleeping right beneath our feet for millions of years.

I was barely born in 2045, but I've heard this story so many times that I feel like I lived through every moment. Dad worked in communication systems when it all began, and Mom documented what she could before the networks collapsed.

It was March 15th. The Russians were drilling in Siberia, looking for geothermal energy. The first transmission was just terrified whispers in Russian about "enormous creatures" coming out of the earth. By two in the morning, there were no more transmissions from Yakutsk.

In twelve hours, the entire world was burning. Well, technically it was freezing, but you understand.

President Komarov of Russia was the first to authorize nuclear weapons. By four in the afternoon, the United States under President Hobson had followed suit. Prime Minister Lian of China launched three warheads before nightfall. It was as if all world leaders had lost their minds simultaneously.

What they didn't know was that each nuclear explosion only melted more underground ice. Each bomb awakened more of those... "Glacials." That's a name we gave them later. At the time, people called them demons, monsters, the end times.

The first 24 hours were the longest in human history. One billion six hundred million people had perished. A fifth of all humanity, in a single day. It's like all of Brazil had disappeared eight times in a row.

Governments began to fall before the first week ended. Hobson was found dead in his bunker on March 20th. Lian disappeared when Beijing was attacked on the 22nd. Nakamura transmitted his last message on the 25th before Tokyo went silent. Europe didn't last much longer: Paris fell on April 2nd, Berlin on the 8th when it was attacked by twelve Glacials simultaneously.

The worst part wasn't the direct attacks, but everything that came after. Temperatures dropped so fast that crops were lost globally. People fought for food, for shelter, for anything that would keep them alive one more day.

By April, there were no superpowers left. Only groups of survivors hiding in bunkers, basements, anywhere the Glacials couldn't find them easily.

The "Dark Years" lasted ten years. Humanity basically returned to the medieval age: no electricity, no global communications, no supply chains. People grew crops in underground greenhouses and hunted rats to survive.

It wasn't until 2055 that small communities began to unite again. Places like our Aurora base started as simple shelters, but gradually became small fortified cities.

The sixties were when we finally began to fight back. Small groups had become organized communities that began to cooperate with each other. We had scientists again, engineers, even veteran military personnel who had survived the initial collapse.

That's when someone had the crazy idea of building machines large enough to fight the Glacials on equal terms. At first it sounded impossible, but Dad always says that when you have no options, even the impossible becomes possible.

The MECHANOID Project began in secret in 2065. Six years of development, testing, failures, and small advances. The first prototypes could barely walk. The control systems killed several test pilots. But each failure taught us something new.

When the first operational MECHANOID finally stepped onto a battlefield in 2071, everything changed. For the first time in twenty-six years, a Glacial had been defeated in direct combat by human technology. For the first time since The Thaw, we had real hope.

Dad was there that day, monitoring communications. He says that when confirmation of the first Glacial kill came in, the entire base erupted in celebration. People who had lived in terror for decades finally believed that maybe, just maybe, we could reclaim our world.

March 27th, 2072

The Ares helicopter cut through the dense jungle air, its rotors fighting against the mist that rose like ghosts between the trees. 14:23 hours marked the digital chronometer on the dashboard when Dr. Marcus Veil leaned forward, observing the battle scars that decorated the aircraft's fuselage.

—Aurora Base, this is Ares-7 requesting landing permission— Veil growled into the microphone, his voice rough as sandpaper. —Authorization code Tango-Echo-7-7-Alpha-Zulu.

The radio crackled before responding:

—Ares-7, Aurora Control. Code confirmed. We notice damage to your craft, do you need medical assistance?

The pilot, a veteran man with steady hands on the controls, responded without taking his eyes off the misty horizon:

—Negative, Aurora. These are just marks from when we encountered the Clade in the oceanic sector. We couldn't stop for minor repairs.

—Understood, Ares-7. You're authorized for descent on platform 3. Southeast wind at 15 knots.

Veil turned toward the figure seated behind him, someone whose identity remained hidden in the shadows of the passenger compartment.

—Listen carefully— he snapped with an authoritative tone. —Your piloting test will be in exactly two hours. You better prepare and not disappoint me. I don't have time for failures.

The helicopter began its descent, the blades cutting the mist in hypnotic spirals. Through the window, the structures of Aurora base gradually emerged from the fog like a fortress lost in time.

—Damn pilots— Veil muttered, glaring at the crew. —How many times have I told you to keep the aircraft in optimal condition? Those bullet marks are a disgrace to the project.

The copilot flinched slightly but didn't respond. Everyone at the base knew it was better not to contradict Dr. Veil when he was in a bad mood, which was practically always.

—And you— Veil continued, turning again toward his silent companion, —you better have studied the manuals. I won't tolerate my reputation being tarnished by your incompetence. MKs don't pilot themselves.

The helicopter touched the platform with a dry thud, and the rotors began to slow down gradually. Through the cockpit, Aurora base stretched like a military city lost in the middle of the jungle, its communication towers disappearing into the perpetual mist that seemed to embrace the place like a protective mantle.

Veil unbuckled his harness with abrupt movements, clearly irritated by the flight and everything he had to endure in the last few hours.

—Two hours— he repeated without looking back. —Not a minute more. If you're not ready, I'll find another candidate. There are hundreds waiting for this opportunity.

The sound of the rotors finally faded, leaving only the distant murmur of the jungle and the echo of the scientist's words floating in the humid afternoon air.

The dense jungle air mixed with engine smoke as father and son descended from the helicopter. Evan Veil, with his twenty years and red hair tousled by the wind, followed his father across the landing platform, his long steps trying to keep pace with Dr. Marcus Veil.

Three soldiers approached with firm steps, their uniforms bearing the characteristic insignia of Aurora base: a circular symbol with golden rays representing dawn after darkness. The group leader, a man of robust build with scars crossing his face, stood at attention before them.

—Dr. Veil, welcome to Aurora. I'm General Torres, responsible for field operations. Engineer Chen left us specific instructions about your arrival.

Marcus frowned, his expression already showing signs of irritation.

—Where is my RK-2 unit? I expect it to be fully operational and ready for testing.

Torres exchanged uncomfortable glances with his companions before responding.

—Doctor, I'm afraid we have... complications. The RK-2 project continues in production, but recent missions against the Glacials in the northern sector have required us to divert resources. We've lost three MK-1s in the last two weeks, and...

—What exactly are you telling me, Commander?— Marcus interrupted, his voice rising dangerously.

—Your son's tests will have to be performed on an incomplete RK-2 model. We have approximately 60% of the systems functional, but the advanced neural feedback circuits and emotional stabilization system have not yet been installed.

Marcus's face reddened with fury. Evan, who had remained silent observing the interaction, felt a familiar pang of secondhand embarrassment.

—Are you joking?— Marcus roared, taking a step forward toward Torres. —Do you know who I am? Do you know what I've sacrificed for this project? Engineer Chen personally put me in charge of five of the best researchers from Falcon base before being killed by those damn Glacials. Five of the most brilliant minds this project had!

Torres maintained his composure, but it was evident that the situation made him uncomfortable.

—Doctor, we understand your frustration, but...

—You don't understand anything!— Marcus gestured violently. —You're betraying the father of the revolution! Chen trusted me to carry forward his vision, to demonstrate that the MK-2s are not just superior to previous models, but absolutely indispensable for human survival. And you... you give me a half-finished prototype as if it were a laboratory toy.

—Father...— Evan murmured, trying to intervene.

—Silence! — Marcus turned toward his son with furious eyes. —You have a responsibility. You are the perfect guinea pig for this test, the ideal specimen we need. You cannot fail me now.

Evan felt the soldiers' gazes upon him, their expressions mixing curiosity and pity. The humiliation burned in his chest, but he had learned to swallow those emotions years ago.

—General Torres— Marcus continued, his voice now cold and calculating, —I hope that at least the basic piloting systems are functioning. My son will perform these tests regardless of conditions. I have a schedule to keep.

Torres nodded slowly.

—The manual control systems and body sensors are operational, Dr. Veil. We also have other pilots prepared for multi-crew testing.

—Good. Evan, go prepare yourself with the other pilots. You have two hours to familiarize yourself with the equipment.

Evan nodded silently, but before walking away, Torres gestured to a figure who had remained in the background.

—Corporal Ramirez, escort Mr. Veil to the pilot barracks.

A young woman, approximately the same age as Evan, approached. She had black hair pulled back in a perfect military ponytail and brown eyes that reflected a mixture of professionalism and warmth. Her uniform bore the insignia of a specialized technician.

—Mr. Veil, I am Corporal Ramirez. My father is the chief of MK Maintenance. It will be an honor to escort you.

As they walked away from the platform, Evan finally found courage to speak.

—Corporal Ramirez... I'm very sorry about my father's frustration. I know it's not easy working with him when he's like this.

Ramirez gave him an understanding smile.

—Don't worry, sir. We've worked with many temperamental scientists. Your father has a reputation, but we also know that his work is crucial for all of us.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, traversing metal corridors that echoed with their footsteps. Evan observed the walls decorated with photographs of fallen pilots, destroyed machines, and defeated Glacials. Each image reminded him of the magnitude of what he was about to face.

Am I really ready for this? he wondered, feeling how anxiety pressed against his chest. My whole life I've lived in the shadow of dad's work. Always waiting for me to prove that I'm worthy of being his son, of carrying his surname.

Memories of his childhood crowded his mind: the nights when Marcus worked late, the days when they barely exchanged words, the constant comparisons with other young prodigies his father knew. Evan had grown up feeling like a failed experiment, a constant reminder that even geniuses could have mediocre children.

—Mr. Veil— Ramirez's voice interrupted his thoughts. —Are you nervous about the tests?

Evan looked at her, surprised by the direct question.

—Yes— he admitted. —Very nervous. I don't know if I'm prepared for this.

Ramirez stopped and faced him with a serious expression.

—Do you know why you were selected for these tests?

Evan shrugged.

—Because I'm Marcus Veil's son. Because I'm a... convenient guinea pig.

—No— Rivera shook her head. —You were selected because at sixteen you managed to solve the neural synchronization algorithms that had been troubling entire teams of engineers. Because you have reflexes that are in the 99th percentile of the population. Because your stress resistance and hand-eye coordination tests are extraordinary.

Evan looked at her with surprise.

—How do you know that?

—My father has been working on the MKs since the first prototypes. I've grown up seeing files, data, statistics. Your name appeared on our radar long before your father officially proposed you.

They stopped in front of a door marked "PILOT BARRACKS - RESTRICTED ACCESS."

—The importance of this test goes beyond demonstrating the RK-2's capabilities— Ramirez continued. —The Glacials are evolving, becoming more intelligent, more coordinated. We need pilots who can adapt to that evolution. The MK-2s require something that previous models didn't need: true symbiosis between pilots.

Ramirez put her hand on the biometric scanner and the door opened with a pneumatic hiss.

—Symbiosis? — Evan asked.

—The MK-2s operate with multi-crew piloting systems. The Core pilot, who is the system's nucleus, must maintain empathic connection with all other pilots. They must feel not only the machine's state, but the emotions, stress, even the pain of their crewmates.

They entered a spacious area filled with lockers, perfectly arranged military beds, and specialized equipment. Several young people, men and women of similar ages to Evan, were preparing or studying technical manuals.

—Why does the Core pilot feel the MK's damage? — Evan asked, intrigued despite his nervousness.

Ramirez stopped next to a locker marked "E. VEIL" and began taking out piloting equipment.

—The MK-2s use something called Biological Feedback Interface. The Core pilot wears a special suit connected directly to the machine's nervous system. When the MK receives damage, the Core pilot feels an attenuated version of that pain. This allows faster reactions and instinctive understanding of the machine's state, but it also means that...

—That if the MK is destroyed, the Core pilot could die— Evan finished, feeling the color drain from his face.

Ramirez nodded gravely.

—That's why we need exceptional pilots. That's why you're here, Mr. Veil. You're not just Marcus Veil's son. You're Evan Veil, and your abilities have shown that you could be one of the best Core pilots we've seen.

Evan sat heavily on one of the beds, holding the piloting helmet that Ramirez had handed him. The weight of the cold metal in his hands reminded him of the reality of what he was about to face.

—Corporal Ramirez — he said, his voice firmer than it had sounded in years. —Where can I find the other pilots? I have a lot to learn in very little time.

Ramirez guided Evan through the barracks, passing between the military beds and metal lockers. The atmosphere felt strange, a mixture of youthful camaraderie and professional tension that floated in the air like static electricity. Several of the pilots looked up when they entered, their gazes evaluating the newcomer with that cautious curiosity typical of closed groups.

—Hey, guys! — Ramirez announced with a clear voice. —We have a new teammate for today's tests.

A young man with an athletic build and brown hair cut in military style approached from the back of the barracks. His posture radiated natural authority, and the insignia on his uniform indicated he was the group's leader. His olive green eyes studied Evan with an intensity that made him feel like he was being X-rayed.

—So you're the famous Veil we've been hearing about— said the young man of approximately 22 years, extending a firm hand. —I'm Captain Alex Morrison, leader of the youth pilot team. I've heard a lot about a certain Veil, and if you're in this room, it means you've proven your worth just like all of us.

Evan felt a wave of relief upon detecting the genuine warmth behind the captain's formal tone. His extroverted nature, which had been repressed during the flight with his father, began to emerge.

—Thank you, Captain Morrison. The truth is I'm quite nervous, but also excited to be here. I've been studying the manuals for weeks, and finally being able to put it into practice...— Evan smiled, his confidence growing. —I hope to live up to expectations and serve with justice to whatever talent I might have.

Morrison nodded with approval, clearly satisfied with the response.

—I like that attitude. Pilots who arrive here thinking they already know everything rarely last long. Humility is as important as talent in this job.

At that moment, a slender figure with short, platinum hair approached jumping from one of the lockers. Their energy was contagious, with a wide smile that illuminated their entire face and movements that seemed more appropriate for a dance than a military barracks.

—Ooooh, the new guy!— they exclaimed with a melodious and animated voice. —Finally! I was starting to think we'd have to do the tests with mannequins again. I'm super good with first impressions, so... Hi, I'm incredible and you should be too!

Evan blinked, surprised by the newcomer's bubbly personality. Their short hair and delicate features gave him a first impression that led him to an erroneous conclusion.

—Pleased to meet you...— Evan began, but hesitated about how to address his new companion. —Uh, excuse me, but... is she...?

Morrison cleared his throat with an amused smile.

—He, Evan. He is Kaito Nakamura, our weapons systems specialist. And before you ask, yes, he's always this... energetic.

Evan blushed deeply, feeling mortified by his mistake.

—Oh, my God! I'm so sorry, Kaito. I didn't mean to assume...

Kaito laughed with a musical chuckle, waving a hand in the air as if he were shooing away flies.

—Don't worry about it at all! It happens constantly. Mom says I inherited the family's beauty genes, but dad gave me his love for big weapons and explosions. The best of both worlds!

They shook hands, and Evan immediately felt comfortable with Kaito's open personality.

—Evan Veil, a pleasure to meet you. And I must say you have incredible energy.

—Thanks! Morrison always says I'm like a fusion engine with legs— Kaito winked. —But when it comes to weapons systems, I'm deadly. Literally and figuratively.

Morrison crossed his arms, observing the interaction with satisfaction.

—The other team members are finishing their calibration tests right now. If you want, you can observe and see how we operate. It might give you a better idea of what to expect.

Evan nodded enthusiastically.

—Absolutely! I'd love to see how all this works in action.

—Perfect. Follow us— Morrison began walking toward a door marked "SIMULATION HANGAR". —The MK we operate is called "Hellframe". We handle it between three: Kaito, whom you already met, another pilot who's doing tests right now with someone... let's say, more complicated, and me.

As they walked through the corridor, Morrison continued explaining.

—Hellframe is an older model than the new RK-2s, that's why it requires three crew members. I'm the Core pilot, responsible for general coordination and movement systems. Kaito handles all weapons systems, from primary to secondary. And our third companion, Sarah, takes care of defense and support systems.

Morrison guided them through a narrower corridor that ended at a door marked "OBSERVATION POST - ALPHA LEVEL". Upon opening it, Evan found himself in an elevated room with a reinforced glass wall that offered a panoramic view toward what appeared to be an aircraft hangar, but built completely vertically.

The space was colossal. Evan had to tilt his head back to see the ceiling, which disappeared into shadows at what seemed to be more than a hundred meters high. The hangar's depth was equally impressive, extending toward the back like an underground cathedral of metal and lights. But what truly took his breath away was the machine that dominated the center of the space.

The MK rose like a steel mountain, its nearly 70 meters of height making it an absolutely dominant presence. Its 30 meters of length gave it proportions that evoked both elegance and destructive power. The metallic beast was held by a series of ports and mechanical arms that kept it firmly anchored, preventing it from moving forward or backward, but allowing its extremities to move freely within a controlled range.

The most fascinating thing was the screen system that completely surrounded the MK. Hundreds of projectors created a three-dimensional battlefield around it, simulating terrains, enemies, and weather conditions with a fidelity that was almost indistinguishable from reality.

—What is that thing?— Evan murmured, pressing his hands against the glass to get a better view.

—Let me introduce you to the R.R.— Morrison said with evident pride in his voice. —Our main training model.

—R.R.? What does it mean?

Morrison smiled with an expression that mixed respect and amusement.

—Rambling Rover. A worthy name for such a steel beast that wanders almost without restraints... except if you don't want it to destroy the entire base, of course.

Evan observed more carefully. The MK was in full combat simulation, its articulated arms moving with lethal precision while firing at virtual enemies that appeared on the surrounding screens. But there was something strange about its movements.

—Why does it seem like it's struggling to move?— Evan asked, noticing a certain stiffness in the mechanical giant's movements. —It's like it's... fighting with itself.

Morrison sighed and rubbed his forehead.

—Because they're probably fighting again. I already anticipated this would happen when I saw today's schedule.

Kaito, who had been watching with an expression of evident relief, turned toward them.

—I'm saved! Thanks to the creator I wasn't her partner today. I'd much rather be up here watching the show than down there being part of the drama.

Evan frowned, increasingly intrigued by this mysterious pilot's identity.

—Who is "she"? What are you talking about?

Morrison approached a control panel and activated the MK's internal audio. Immediately, Sarah's calm and professional voice filled the room.

—...defense systems operating at 85%. I recommend reducing attack aggressiveness to maintain overall coordination. Core Pilot, can you adjust the assault pattern?

But the response didn't come in words. Instead, the MK executed a series of abrupt and violent movements, as if it were being controlled by someone who had decided to completely ignore Sarah's suggestions. The giant's arms moved with a ferocity that made the entire hangar structure vibrate.

—See what I mean?— Morrison said, pointing toward the machine. —Sarah is incredibly talented and keeps her cool under pressure. She could be one of the best defense pilots we have. But her partner...

The MK executed a particularly aggressive maneuver, spinning with a speed that seemed to defy the laws of physics for a machine of that size.

—...is equally talented, but completely impulsive. Aggressive to a point that sometimes borders on suicidal. She says everything she thinks through her movements.

Evan watched fascinated as the MK continued its destructive dance. It was like watching a silent warrior expressing her entire personality through controlled violence. Every movement was a statement, every attack was a word in a language that could only be understood through action.

—It's... incredible— Evan murmured. —It's like the machine has its own personality.

—Exactly— Morrison confirmed. —That's the magic and curse of working with truly exceptional pilots. When someone has that level of talent, the machine becomes an extension of their soul. And our partner's soul is... well, complicated.

At that moment, the MK executed a series of movements that seemed almost like a dance, fluid and lethal at the same time. It was evident that the two pilots had momentarily found their rhythm, working together despite their differences.

—You know what, Evan?— Morrison said, turning toward him with a mischievous smile. —I think you're about to learn firsthand what it means to pilot with... intense personalities. Because if everything goes according to plan, your next test will be exactly with the same type of challenge you're seeing down there.

Evan watched the MK's lethal dance for a few more moments before an obvious question arose in his mind.

—Wait— he said, turning toward Morrison with a frown. —If you already have your established teams, why can't I take the test with you? With Kaito or with you, Morrison. I feel more comfortable with people I already know.

Morrison exchanged a meaningful look with Kaito, who suddenly lost part of his usual energy. The atmosphere in the room became more tense.

—Evan...— Morrison began, choosing his words carefully. —There's something we haven't told you about why exactly you were selected for these tests.

—What do you mean?

Kaito approached, his expression now more serious than Evan had seen since he met him.

—You weren't selected just for your technical skills, Evan. You were selected for your psychological profile. Specifically, for your ability to maintain calm under extreme pressure and your... tolerance for difficult personalities.

Evan felt a chill run down his spine.

—Difficult personalities?

Before they could answer, the MK's roar began to diminish. The simulation had ended. The mechanical giant's movements slowed until they stopped completely, and the holographic screens surrounding them began to turn off one by one.

—Perfect timing— Morrison murmured. —Now you'll be able to meet your future partner.

Evan pressed his face against the glass, watching as an elevator platform began to descend from inside the MK. He could see two figures in piloting suits, but the distance made it difficult to distinguish details.

—My future partner?— he asked, feeling his nervousness intensify.

—Sarah belongs to our team, the Hellframe— Morrison explained. —But the other pilot... she's the Rambling Rover's main pilot. And she's been looking for a new partner.

The platform continued descending, and Evan could see the two women more clearly. One of them had mahogany hair that shone under the hangar lights, and when she removed her helmet, she revealed a face that radiated professionalism and determination. The other figure was slimmer, with a posture that suggested constant tension, like a spring about to jump.

—Looking for a partner?— Evan asked, though part of him already feared the answer.

Kaito sighed.

—Her previous partner... died in combat.

—How did it happen?

Morrison and Kaito exchanged another uncomfortable look.

—Evan, that's not a conversation for now...

—Tell me!— Evan insisted, his voice firmer than it had sounded all day. —If I'm going to be her partner, I need to know what happened.

Morrison rubbed his neck, clearly uncomfortable.

—It hasn't been just one partner, Evan. She's lost seven partners throughout her career.

The silence that followed was deafening. Evan felt as if he had been punched in the stomach.

—Seven?— he murmured. —Seven partners have...?

Before he could finish the question, the observation post door opened abruptly. Sarah entered with determined steps, her mahogany hair still damp from piloting sweat, her eyes shining with a mixture of frustration and exhaustion.

—I can't take it anymore!— she shouted, heading directly toward Morrison. —I can't keep doing this! It's impossible to work with someone who acts like she's on a constant suicide mission!

Behind her, with a much calmer pace, entered the second pilot. Evan felt his breath catch.

The woman was of medium height, with an athletic build that spoke of years of intensive training. But what really impacted him was her deep black hair that fell like a waterfall to almost the middle of her back, creating a dramatic contrast with her pale skin. And her eyes...

Her eyes were white as freshly fallen snow, almost luminous in their coldness. They showed no emotion while Sarah continued her complaint, as if her partner's words were simply background noise.

—Look!— Sarah continued, gesturing toward the black-haired pilot. —She's not even listening to me! It's like talking to a wall! A very talented and dangerous wall, but a wall nonetheless.

The mysterious pilot finally spoke, her voice barely a whisper that somehow filled the entire room.

—The objective was completed. The mission parameters were fulfilled. I don't see what the problem is.

Sarah turned toward her, exasperated.

—The problem is that you almost killed us both three times during the simulation! The problem is that you don't work AS a team, you work WITH a team when it suits you!

The white-eyed pilot shrugged with an indifference that was almost insulting.

—The results speak for themselves.

And without more, she headed toward the door. Evan, still in shock, watched her pass by him without even registering his presence.

Morrison put a hand on Evan's shoulder, watching the door through which the mysterious pilot had disappeared.

—Her name is Nyx Ashford— he said with a sigh. —And you just met your future partner, Evan Veil.

Sarah approached Evan, still breathing heavily from the adrenaline of piloting. Her mahogany hair framed a face that combined determination with a natural beauty that made Evan feel a slight blush on his cheeks. Her green eyes shone with an intensity that spoke of years of combat experience.

—Sorry for the show— Sarah said, extending a sweaty but firm hand. —I'm Sarah Chen, defensive systems pilot. I suppose you must be Evan Veil.

Evan took her hand, immediately noticing the strength in her grip and the warmth of her palm. He felt strangely nervous, as if he were meeting someone much more important than she really was.

—Yes, I'm Evan— he responded, his voice slightly higher than normal. —A pleasure to meet you, Sarah. And... uh, sorry if this sounds strange, but are you related to engineer Chen? The one who... well, who worked with my father before...

Sarah smiled, but there was sadness in her eyes.

—He was my uncle— she confirmed. —He was the one who recommended me for the pilot program. He said I had the same protective instinct as him, but applied to machines instead of construction plans.

—I'm so sorry for your loss. My father speaks of him with great respect.

—Thank you. He believed in this project more than anyone. That's why we're still here, right?

Morrison cleared his throat, interrupting the moment.

—Well, Evan, I officially welcome you to the Phantom Wing squadron.

Kaito let out a laugh that sounded a bit forced.

—Welcome to the slaughterhouse, brother!— he said, giving him a pat on the shoulder that tried to be encouraging but only managed to make Evan's stomach contract.

—Slaughterhouse?— Evan asked, feeling the color drain from his face.

Sarah gave Kaito a severe look.

—Ignore him. He's just being dramatic.

But Morrison didn't smile.

—Evan, my best friend was Nyx's previous partner. Ivan Sidorov, Commander Drake's younger brother. An exceptional pilot, one of the best I'd seen. Now he's in a coma in the medical wing at Hope, with no chances of waking up soon.

The silence that followed was heavy. Evan felt how the reality of the situation began to sink into his mind like cold lead.

—But hey— Morrison continued with a tone that tried to be optimistic, —nobody's forcing you to do this. You can still back out.

Evan looked at each of his new companions. Kaito's forced smile, Sarah's worried expression, Morrison's seriousness. Finally, he nodded.

—No. I came here to do this. To prove that I can do it.

Sarah took a step closer.

—Then just remember one thing: keep your mind cool. No matter what happens down there, no matter what she does, keep your head cool and trust your training.

Kaito nodded vigorously.

—And don't take it personally. Nothing she does is personal.

—Be careful, Evan— Morrison added. —That's all we can tell you.

Evan looked at them all once more, feeling the weight of what he was about to face. Finally he had understood the truth: it wasn't just a test. It was a survival mission. And he had just walked directly into the wolf's mouth.

—When do we start?— he asked, surprising himself with the firmness in his voice.

Morrison checked his watch.

—In thirty minutes. You better get ready.

Morrison headed toward the observation post door, followed by Kaito and Sarah. Before leaving, he turned toward Evan with an expression that mixed concern and respect.

—Evan, remember everything we told you. And above all— he paused, choosing his words carefully —don't try to change her. Just... survive her.

Kaito waved a hand in the air with his characteristic energy, though there was a note of nervousness in his voice.

—See you on the other side, brother! And if you survive, I'll buy you a drink to celebrate!

Sarah was the last to approach. She put a hand on his shoulder with a gentleness that contrasted with her military appearance.

—Trust your instincts, Evan. And remember that no matter what happens, there will always be a second chance.

When the door closed behind them, Evan was left alone in the observation post. The hangar's silence was deafening after the constant activity. He looked down, where the Rambling Rover remained motionless, its seventy meters of height casting dramatic shadows under the industrial lights.

He headed toward the locker marked with his name, where Ramírez had left his equipment. The piloting suit was heavier than he had imagined, made with a material that seemed like a mixture between kevlar and something metallic. When he put it on, he immediately felt how it adjusted to his body like a second skin, adapting to every muscle and joint.

The helmet was a work of technological art. Inside, he could see dozens of tiny sensors and cables that extended like golden veins. When he put it on, he felt a strange tingling on his scalp, as if thousands of small needles were touching his skin without piercing it.

While he finished adjusting the last system of the suit, he heard footsteps in the corridor. The door opened and Ramírez entered, followed by a technician that Evan didn't recognize.

—Mr. Veil— said Ramírez, —it's time for the final calibrations. The R.R. sensors have been completely updated in the last few hours.

The technician, an older man with thick glasses and grease-stained hands, approached with a device that looked like a medical scanner.

—The RK-2 improvements have been successfully installed— he explained while passing the scanner over Evan's suit. —The Biological Feedback Interface system now operates at a sensitivity level three times higher than the previous model. The new neural adapters will allow unprecedented synchronization between the Core pilot and the MK.

Evan felt his heart rate accelerate as the sensors of his suit began to activate one by one. Small blue lights blinked along his arms and legs, creating a pattern that resembled a bioluminescent nervous tree.

—How do you feel?— asked Ramírez, observing the readings on her tablet.

—Strange— admitted Evan. —It's like I can feel... more. As if my senses were amplified.

The technician nodded with satisfaction.

—Exactly what we expected. Your nervous system is now prepared to receive the MK's signals. But remember, Mr. Veil, with great power comes great responsibility. The damage that the R.R. receives, you will feel directly.

At that moment, the door opened again. This time, Marcus Veil entered along with General Torres and three other officers that Evan didn't recognize. His father carried a tablet in his hands and an expression of professional satisfaction.

—Evan— said Marcus, approaching to inspect his son's suit. —Perfect. The sensors are responding correctly. The biometric readings are excellent.

Torres headed toward the window that overlooked the hangar.

—Doctor Veil, the observers are taking their positions. General Torres will arrive at any moment to witness the test.

Marcus nodded, then looked at his son with an intensity that Evan had learned to recognize as his "scientific mode."

—Son, this test isn't just about you. It's about the future of humanity. The data we collect today could determine if the RK-2s become the new standard defense line.

Evan felt the weight of expectations like a physical burden on his shoulders.

—I understand, dad. I won't let you down.

Marcus put a hand on his shoulder, a gesture so rare that Evan almost startled.

—You better not.

Evan followed Ramírez through a series of corridors that descended toward the main hangar. With each step, he could feel how the gravity of the situation intensified. The suit responded to his movements as if it were part of his body, but he could also feel a latent connection, as if something were waiting to awaken.

The access platform to the new MK rose like a cathedral of steel and technology. Evan had seen the Rambling Rover from a distance, but being in front of the newly built RK-2 was a completely different experience. The machine was slightly more streamlined than previous models, with more elegant lines that suggested speed and precision instead of brute force. Its 75 meters of height made it a dominant presence, and the matte black finish with golden details gave it an almost majestic appearance.

As he approached the platform, Evan could see a familiar figure waiting next to the access controls. Nyx Ashford was there, already dressed in her piloting suit, observing the machine with an expression that mixed professional appreciation with something that seemed almost... hunger.

Evan approached with determined steps, remembering Ramírez's words about maintaining professionalism.

—Hello, Nyx— he said with a smile he hoped was friendly. —I'm Evan Veil. I suppose we're going to be partners for this test.

Nyx directed a brief look at him, her eyes white as freshly fallen snow evaluating him from top to bottom. Without saying a word, she turned toward the machine and began walking toward the elevator platform.

Evan felt the flush of embarrassment rise up his neck, but decided not to let himself be intimidated.

—I understand you've had a lot of experience with these systems— he continued, following her toward the platform. —I'd love to know your opinion about the RK-2 improvements.

Nyx stopped on the platform and activated the controls with precise and practiced movements. Finally, without looking at him, she spoke with that whispering voice he had heard before.

—You talk too much.

And with that, the platform began to rise toward the interior of the MK.

The interior of the RK-2 was a completely different world. The walls were covered with control panels that pulsed with soft lights, and the air had a slight electrical hum that made Evan's hair stand on end. But what really impacted him was the sensation of... life that emanated from the machine. As if he were entering the body of a sleeping creature.

A technician was waiting for them in the access chamber, with a tablet in hand and serious expression.

—Pilot Ashford, Pilot Veil— he greeted them formally. —Welcome to the RK-2 'Prometheus'. Before proceeding, I need to confirm the role assignments.

Nyx crossed her arms, and Evan could feel the tension radiating from her like heat.

—I assume I'll take the Core role as always— she said with a voice that sounded dangerously calm.

The technician consulted his tablet, clearly uncomfortable.

—Actually, Miss Ashford, Dr. Veil has specified that pilot Evan Veil must serve as Core for this test. You will be assigned as Sync.

The silence that followed was so heavy that Evan felt it could be cut with a knife. Nyx turned toward him, and for the first time, there was something different in her white eyes. It wasn't exactly fury, but it definitely wasn't indifference.

—Sync?— she repeated, as if the word had a bitter taste.

The technician cleared his throat.

—The Core pilot must be the primary receiver of the Biological Feedback Interface. The Sync pilot is in charge of system coordination and... well, maintaining the mental stability of the Core during the connection.

Evan felt he should intervene.

—Nyx, I didn't ask for this. If you prefer to be the Core, I can talk to...

—No— she interrupted, her voice cutting like ice. —If those are the orders, then those are the orders. But let it be clear: I'm nobody's babysitter.

The technician seemed relieved that there wasn't a major confrontation.

—Excellent. Pilot Veil, your station is in the main command chamber, in the head of the MK. Pilot Ashford, you'll be in the synchronization chamber, approximately ten meters below.

While the technician guided them through the internal corridors of the MK, Evan couldn't help but feel like a child in a toy store. Every surface was covered with technology he could barely begin to understand, and the sound of their steps echoed with a metallic echo that constantly reminded him that he was inside a war machine.

Finally, they reached a door marked "MAIN COMMAND CHAMBER - CORE ACCESS ONLY."

—This is your station, pilot Veil— announced the technician. —Once you cross this door, you'll be in the heart of the MK. Everything you feel, everything you think, will be shared with the machine.

Evan looked back, toward Nyx, hoping for some word of encouragement or at least some comment. But she simply looked at him with those white and impenetrable eyes.

—See you on the other side— he murmured, and walked away following the technician toward her own station.

The main command chamber was... perfect.

Evan stopped at the threshold, feeling his breath catch. The room was circular, with walls completely covered in screens showing dozens of different angles of the MK's exterior. In the center was a chair that seemed to have been designed specifically for him, surrounded by a semicircle of controls that extended within his perfect reach.

But what really made him fall in love were the manual controls.

They weren't simple buttons or touchscreens. They were solid metal levers, pulleys that required real strength to operate, buttons that had weight and resistance when he pressed them. It was as if each control had been designed for the pilot to physically feel each movement of the MK.

—My God— he murmured, slowly approaching the command chair. —It's... it's beautiful.

He slid into the chair and immediately felt how dozens of sensors activated, automatically adjusting to his body. The screens came to life, showing system data that flowed like rivers of information. But what really hypnotized him were the controls.

He extended his hands toward the main levers, and upon touching them, he felt an electrical current that ran through his entire body. It wasn't painful, but... connective. As if the levers were extensions of his own arms.

—Main movement systems— he murmured, identifying the controls thanks to weeks of study. —Upper extremity articulation... balance systems...

Each control had a purpose, each lever controlled a specific aspect of the mechanical giant. And all were now under his command.

A voice resonated through the internal communication system:

—Pilot Veil, are you ready for the activation of the Biological Feedback Interface?

Evan looked toward the screens, where he could see his father and the other spectators observing from their safety positions. He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of everything that had led to this moment.

—I'm ready— he responded, his voice sounding stronger and more confident than it had sounded in his entire life.

—Initiating activation sequence in three... two... one...

The world changed.

Suddenly, Evan wasn't alone in the command chamber. He was everywhere. He could feel every centimeter of the MK as if it were his own body. The feet of the mechanical giant were his feet, the arms were his arms, the sensors were his eyes, ears, even his skin.

And for the first time in his life, Evan Veil felt completely at home.

—Tower Control— he said, his voice now resonating from the MK's external speakers, —Prometheus is ready for testing. Initiating movement systems.

Evan's hands moved over the controls as if he had been piloting MKs his entire life. Each lever responded to his touch, each pulley turned exactly as he wanted. The MK took its first step, and Evan felt the impact as if it were his own foot touching the ground.

It was pure power. It was absolute freedom.

It was exactly what he had been looking for his entire life without even knowing it.

—Nyx— he said through the internal communicator, —are you ready to synchronize?

The answer came in the form of a mental connection that hit him like a cold wave. Suddenly, he could feel Nyx's presence in his mind, her cold and calculating thoughts merging with his.

And for the first time since he arrived at Aurora base, Evan Veil smiled with absolute confidence.

The real test was about to begin.