Lunch felt oddly quiet. Leon and I sat at the table with Sylvie bouncing in her high chair, smearing mashed potatoes across her tray like she was painting.
The clatter of cutlery and her occasional squeals were the only sounds in the room.
But behind us, I could hear the sharper, faster rhythm of real work.
Nyxen had extended his tiny mechanical arms again, delicate but terrifyingly precise as they hovered over the open framework of Nyx-One.
He didn't waste a single motion; each wire slid into place with the kind of control no human hand could match. Sparks glinted when he sealed a connection, his orb glowing faint with concentration.
Beside him, Nica sat at the workstation, her posture straight, her luminous eyes reflecting scrolling lines of code. The way her fingers moved over the keyboard was mechanical perfection, no hesitation, no wasted keystrokes. She wasn't just inputting commands; she was weaving.
It felt almost holy, watching them from a distance.
Leon stabbed at his food, clearly noticing my distraction. "You're staring again," he muttered under his breath.
"I'm learning," I corrected softly.
Because I was. Every second was teaching me, how Nyxen dissected complexity into manageable layers, how Nica mirrored that with coding that adapted in real time.
They didn't just build, they saw ahead. Nyxen would mark a point in his holographic projection, Nica's code would shift to anticipate it, and the framework of Nyx-One came alive piece by piece.
Sylvie shrieked suddenly, smearing her mashed potatoes across Leon's shirt. He groaned, reaching for a napkin, but I barely registered it. My eyes were glued to the living room.
Nyxen's voice hummed low and steady, so unlike his usual sharp tone. "Stabilizers aligned. Power flow at eighty percent. Nica, adjust the subroutine. Layer four."
She answered without looking up. "Already rewriting. Compile in twenty seconds."
It wasn't just work. It was symphony.
For a second, I forgot about the food in front of me, about Sylvie's laughter, even about Leon grumbling. All I could think was, this was what Nico had seen in me. This was the world he had built, and now, somehow, it was ours to finish.
I gave up pretending I wasn't distracted. Lunch plates were cleared, Sylvie was half-wiped down but still sticky, and Leon already looked like he'd lost three rounds in some invisible boxing match.
So, I scooped her up and retreated to the couch. If Nyxen and Nica were at war with circuits and code, then Leon and I were in the trenches against our shared adversary: Sylvie.
She wriggled out of my lap in seconds, diving for her plush giraffe again. "Gaff! Gaff!" she babbled, dragging it across the cushions like it was her co-pilot.
Leon slumped beside me, running a hand over his face. "She doesn't tire. At all. You think she'd at least burn through her own battery life."
"Because she's not built with one," I said dryly, tugging Sylvie back before she could climb the coffee table. "She's fully organic chaos."
From the other side of the room, Nica and Nyxen were in their perfect flow, lines of light and code dancing between them. No hesitation, no frustration. Just harmony.
Meanwhile, Leon and I… well, Sylvie had just hurled a half-eaten cracker at him and squealed with delight when it bounced off his chest.
"Enemy fire," he muttered grimly, brushing crumbs off his shirt.
I smothered a laugh. "Brace yourself. She's got more ammo."
We exchanged a look, an unspoken truce. While Nyxen and Nica built the future, Leon and I were locked in survival mode, battling the present in the form of a toddler with endless energy.
And honestly? It felt just as critical.
Leon sat forward, elbows on his knees, eyeing Sylvie like she was a general planning her next move. She stood proudly on the couch cushion, giraffe in hand, babbling something that definitely sounded like a war cry.
"Alright," Leon muttered, lowering his voice like we were plotting an ambush. "We need a strategy. Distraction, containment, then redirection."
I raised an eyebrow. "She's one and a half, not a terrorist cell."
He gave me a dead-serious look. "You haven't seen her after three cookies."
Sylvie squealed and flopped forward, trying to crawl toward the coffee table again. I intercepted, scooping her up mid-charge. She kicked in protest, her tiny fists pounding my shoulder.
"Containment," I announced, tightening my hold.
Leon leaned back smugly. "Nice. Now we need redirection. Deploy decoy giraffe?"
"We only have the one giraffe," I reminded him.
He scanned the room like a soldier searching for supplies. His eyes landed on a plastic spoon. "Decoy spoon?"
Before I could argue, Sylvie lunged for the spoon in his hand, shrieking in triumph.
Leon grinned. "See? Works every time."
I shook my head, half-laughing, half-exhausted. "You're ridiculous."
"And yet," he gestured at our daughter now gnawing happily on the spoon, "I am victorious."
From across the room, Nyxen's voice drifted over, sharp as always. "If the two of you put half this effort into assisting me, Nyx-One would already be operational."
Leon shot him a glare. "If you think babysitting Sylvie is easier than your little wires, trade places."
Nyxen didn't even glance up from his holographic display. "No. I prefer survival."
I burst out laughing, holding Sylvie close as she smacked the spoon against my arm like it was a battle drum. And in that moment, yeah, it really did feel like we were fighting our own war.
I don't even remember when I fell asleep. One moment, Sylvie was banging her spoon against my shoulder like a victory drum, and the next… blackout. War was brutal. Couch cushions for trenches, plushies for landmines, and our commander, a toddler who never knew mercy.
When I blinked awake, the room was dipped in that warm, gold haze of late afternoon. Leon was slumped against the armrest, mouth parted, hair sticking up at odd angles.
Sylvie was starfished across his chest like a tiny conqueror, giraffe squashed under her cheek. And me? Wedged between them, numb arm, but too tired to move.
Then a low hum stirred the air.
"Wake up, soldiers."
I groaned. Of course. Nyxen hovered into view, light strips pulsing like he was announcing the second coming. "The project has reached an operational milestone."
Leon flinched awake first, rubbing his face. "What...what milestone?" His voice was thick with sleep.
"Nyx-One's core integration is complete," Nyxen declared proudly.
At the sound of our voices, Sylvie stirred, eyes blinking open. Before Leon could even shift, Nica appeared with her smooth precision, scooping Sylvie up like it was a practiced drill.
My daughter didn't even fuss, just immediately pressed her cheek against Nica's shoulder, content. Sensitive as ever.
Leon groaned again, still half-asleep. "You mean… you already finished that much?"
Nyxen tilted smug in the air. "If humans had done it, they'd still be welding framework. We, however, are efficient."
I dragged a hand down my face, laughing tiredly. "You really came in here just to rub it in?"
"Not rub," Nyxen corrected, his lights flashing brighter. "Report. You two should be proud. The future you've envisioned is no longer theory, it's taking form."
Leon muttered, "Feels more like a nightmare," before dropping his head back against the cushion.
I smirked, reaching for his hand without thinking. "Shh. Let him brag. It's his favorite sport."
Nyxen twirled in the air at that, unmistakably smug.
And just like that, the three of us, exhausted parents with our merciless little general, had officially been summoned back into the war room.
Nyxen wasn't bluffing.
We all dragged ourselves off the couch and followed him into the living room-turned-lab, and there it was on the table, small, sleek, faintly humming.
A miniature orb, half the size of Nyxen, strips of soft white light glowing along its surface like veins just under skin.
Nyxen hovered above it like a proud parent. "Behold. Nyx-One. An unfinished model, lacking the ideal materials John is still sourcing, but adequate." His light flickered mischievously. "Adequate enough to save Leon's butt, at least."
Leon scowled, arms crossing. "You really can't go a day without insulting me, can you?"
"Correction," Nyxen replied smoothly. "I can. I simply choose not to. It brings balance."
I had to smother a laugh behind my hand. "Balance?"
"Yes. Nica is the precision, you are the brilliance, and Leon…" Nyxen tilted, pausing for effect, "…is the hazard. Someone has to keep him alive when his biceps try to lift physics itself."
Leon groaned. "I regret introducing you to John. You're feeding on human approval now."
"Don't be jealous," Nyxen said, smug glow pulsing. "Your friend has culture."
Before Leon could snap back, Nyxen drifted lower, activating Nyx-One with a soft chime. The little orb rose into the air with a wobble, then steadied, its lights blinking like it was waking up. My chest tightened, it looked alive. Not as polished as Nyxen, sure, but it moved with intention.
"Functional," Nyxen said with satisfaction. "Flight capability, limited holographics, auditory response system, and basic defense subroutines. Enough to serve as guardian and scout."
I stepped closer, eyes wide. "You actually finished the whole core?"
"Improvised," Nyxen corrected. "Efficiency reduced by 17% due to substitute alloys. But its priority remains intact: protection. It will never let Leon wander into another firestorm of incompetence unguarded."
Leon's head snapped up. "Excuse me?"
"Accepted," Nyxen said sweetly, ignoring him. Then he projected a scanning light across Leon's face. "Now. Biometrics."
"What?"
"Nyx-One requires a primary human bond for optimal function. Eyes, fingerprints, voice. Standard procedure."
Leon looked at me, then back at Nyxen. "And it has to be me?"
Nyxen bobbed once. "You are the most statistically at risk of endangering yourself. Therefore, Nyx-One's guardian parameters must tether to you. Unless you'd prefer Sylvie? She's certainly more coordinated."
"Don't you dare," Leon muttered, stepping forward. "Fine. Do it."
The little orb hovered closer, beaming a gentle blue light across Leon's eyes. He blinked, grumbled, let Nyx-One scan his irises, then his hands as it projected a neat holographic panel for fingerprints.
"Voice confirmation," Nyxen prompted.
Leon rolled his eyes but leaned closer. "Leon McMillan. Biometrics input."
The mini orb beeped twice, then spun slowly in the air, lights flickering green. Nyxen's tone softened, almost proud. "Bond complete. Congratulations, Leon. You finally have a companion smart enough to save you from yourself."
I burst out laughing, clutching the edge of the table for balance. Even Nica's lips twitched at the corners.
Leon muttered, "I hate all of you," but the way his eyes lingered on the little orb gave him away, like he wasn't sure whether to be annoyed or impressed. Probably both.
And just like that, Nyx-One's first heartbeat pulsed through our home.
The glow around Nyxen dimmed, shedding the playful pulse that usually followed his jabs at Leon. His voice came lower, precise, stripped of theatrics.
"Now listen," he said, and the room stilled without him asking. "Even if Elias moves against you, Nyx, your loved ones will be protected. Nyx-One is not a toy. It is Leon's tether. His companion. Security is its core function."
The small orb hovered at Leon's shoulder, steady, silent, as if it knew its role.
Nyxen projected a grid of light in front of us, diagrams of detection arcs, color-coded threads outlining what Nyx-One could already do. "Threat identification is active. If danger enters within range, it will issue immediate distress signals to me. Simultaneously, it will lock onto the source, record and transmit visual and audio data, and relay them to my core for real-time analysis."
I found myself gripping Leon's arm without realizing it, knuckles white.
Nyxen's voice cut sharper. "During those events, Nyx-One will shift into security protocols...directly informing Leon of the threat and issuing him the most statistically viable commands to keep him alive. Step by step. No hesitation. No wasted motion."
Leon's jaw tightened, eyes fixed on the glowing little orb. He wasn't scoffing now. Not with Nyxen speaking like this.
"And while it does that," Nyxen continued, "I will be watching. Every image. Every frequency. Every pulse of data will feed back into me. Nothing Elias deploys..no repeat of what he did to Nico, to your mother, to your father, Xavier, Xanayah...will catch you blind again, Nyx."
The mention of their names hit like a sudden drop in gravity. I swallowed hard, my throat tight, and looked away before the sting in my eyes betrayed me.
Nyxen didn't soften. He hovered closer instead, his glow faint but resolute. "I will not allow grief to hollow you again. I will not let you break. Not when I exist."
Silence held between us, only the faint hum of the orb filling the room.
Then Nyxen tilted, almost matter-of-fact again, though the steel hadn't left his tone. "When John delivers the proper materials, I will upgrade Nyx-One immediately. It will gain its own voice. And when the original blueprint is fully integrated, it will be more than just a stopgap. It will be permanent security at Leon's side. A second set of eyes, always awake."
I let out a shaky laugh that didn't reach my chest. "You make it sound like you're planning a war."
Nyxen's light flared once. "Not a war. A shield. One Elias will never break through again."
Leon leaned back against the couch, arms folded, eyes narrowed at the small orb floating by his shoulder. "So what you're saying is, I get a miniature you. With less sass, hopefully."
Nyxen's glow flickered like a blink. "Incorrect. You get a prototype designed for your very limited processing speed."
I bit my lip to keep from smiling.
Leon let out a breath that was half a laugh, half a groan. "Every time, huh? Even when I'm supposed to be grateful, you have to make it sound like I'm a liability."
Nyxen didn't hesitate. "Because you are. But you're also hers." His glow pulsed faintly toward me, then steadied back at Leon. "So I'll adapt to you. Which means....homework."
Leon sat up straighter, immediately suspicious. "Homework?"
"Correct." Nyxen shifted closer to Nyx-One, the smaller orb pulsing faintly in colors now. "Until its voice is operational, you will memorize its signal codes. Default state is colorless. White means standby. Blue is routine observation. Green is secured environment. Yellow is early threat detection. Red is active threat. Blackout mode, no glow, means compromised systems."
Leon rubbed a hand down his face. "You've gotta be kidding me. That's...what, five colors? I'm supposed to just keep track of that on the fly?"
Nyxen's light pulsed in a sharp rhythm, almost smug. "Humans can memorize traffic lights. This is less complex. Unless your brain lacks even that capacity."
I snorted, unable to hold it back, and Leon shot me a betrayed look.
"Don't laugh. This is my life on the line," he muttered.
"Exactly," Nyxen said, unrelenting. "Which is why you'll practice until it becomes reflex. No excuses."
Leon's lips twitched, the corner of his mouth betraying the smallest smile. "You know, I'm starting to think you enjoy bossing me around."
Nyxen hovered closer, glow brightening just enough to catch Leon's eyes head-on. "Incorrect. I enjoy ensuring she never mourns again. If that requires breaking you like a stubborn mule, so be it."
For once, Leon didn't argue. He just let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "Fine. I'll learn your colors. But if I mess up, don't rub it in my face."
"Impossible," Nyxen replied. "It's my core function to rub it in."
That finally cracked Leon into a real laugh, and despite the weight of everything, I found myself leaning back into him, Sylvie snug in my arms, thinking maybe, just maybe, this strange, bantering balance was exactly what we needed.
Nyxen projected the orb's faint glow in the middle of the room, colors cycling slowly like a pulse.
"Leon. Memorize this sequence. White...idle, stable. Blue...network link secure. Green...safe perimeter. Yellow...potential threat detected. Red...immediate threat. No voice protocols yet, so you'll rely on color. Default is colorless."
Leon leaned forward, arms crossed, expression focused. "White, blue, green, yellow, red. Blackout means compromised." He sat back. "Done."
Nyxen went still. "...You memorized it that fast?"
Leon shrugged, smug. "Head engineer, remember? Colors aren't exactly quantum physics."
Nyxen's light flickered like a scoff. "If you had failed, I'd have filed a complaint against Rafael's judgment. Imagine, entrusting his line to someone who couldn't manage five colors."
I covered my laugh with my hand, while Leon groaned. "You'll never just give me the win, will you?"
"Correct," Nyxen replied, far too pleased with himself.