The sound of the chase had dulled into silence. Shadow leaned against the cold steel wall of a winding corridor, his breaths shallow, his body aching. His gauntlets hummed faintly, warning him of the unnatural density of mana flowing through this part of the facility.
He had no idea where Rena and the trio were now. For a moment, guilt gnawed at him—splitting paths without a plan was dangerous. But instinct told him this place wanted them separated. The corridors branched and twisted like a labyrinth designed to scatter intruders.
He pressed onward, each step measured. The air grew colder, heavy with the smell of oil and rust. Then the corridor opened into a cavernous chamber unlike anything he had seen before.
Rows of broken machinery and rusted constructs filled the space. Gears the size of wagons leaned against the walls, shattered armor plating lay piled in heaps, and fractured crystals dimly glowed with dying mana.
But in the center of the room… was something else.
A pedestal.
Upon it sat a cube.
It wasn't large—no bigger than his head—but it pulsed faintly with light, its surface covered in intricate lines that shifted as though alive. Every few seconds, the cube twisted in on itself, rearranging like a puzzle with no solution.
The moment Shadow laid eyes on it, his gauntlets reacted violently. Sparks of mana flickered across their scarred surface, and a voice—a second, unfamiliar one—brushed against his mind.
—Awaken me.
He froze. "…What are you?"
No answer came, only a thrum of power that resonated with his very core. His instincts screamed danger, but another part of him—the part honed by forging, by shaping metal into purpose—recognized potential.
Shadow stepped forward cautiously. His eyes scanned the room, and he noticed crates pushed to the side. He pried one open and found files, dusty but intact. He skimmed a page, and his blood ran cold.
[Prototype – Adaptive Core Unit]
[Function: Transformation and Integration]
[Note: Potential synchronization with Ego-Weapon hosts suspected.]
His hands tightened on the file. Synchronization… with me?
The cube pulsed brighter, as if answering. Images flashed across his mind: massive mechanical wings cutting through the sky, cannons roaring fire, sleek vehicles tearing across barren plains. Weapons, machines, movement—freedom in mechanical form.
Shadow's breath caught. This wasn't like his gauntlets. This wasn't conscious—not yet. But it was alive in its own way.
The chamber trembled suddenly. From the far side, reinforced doors slammed open and heavy armored guards poured in, weapons primed. The cube's glow sharpened, as though urging him to claim it before it was too late.
Shadow hesitated only a heartbeat. Then he grabbed the cube.
It was heavier than it looked, mana coursing into his arms the moment his skin touched it. His gauntlets sparked violently, protesting, but did not reject it. Instead, the cube and gauntlets pulsed in unison, a strange resonance filling the room.
The guards charged.
Shadow gritted his teeth, tucking the cube under one arm as he summoned his gauntlets' blade form. He lunged forward, cutting through the first guard's armor, sparks flying. Mana bolts scorched the ground near his feet, forcing him into a dance of steel and shadows.
Every blow rang with urgency. Every movement was a gamble between survival and collapse. But through it all, the cube thrummed in his grasp, as though memorizing, learning, waiting.
Fifteen minutes of brutal combat later, Shadow stumbled out of the chamber, his body burning with exhaustion, his gauntlets chipped and smoking. The cube pulsed faintly in his arms, its light dimmed but steady.
He didn't know what it truly was—or what it wanted. But his instincts told him this was no ordinary weapon. It was something more.
Something the government had tried to bury.
And now, it was his.