The cliff loomed over Tessal like the wall of a fortress. Jagged stone stretched downward for what looked like forever, and the wind whipped past his ears in a mocking howl.
Garp stood at the edge, arms crossed, grinning as always. "Down," he said simply. "No ropes. No excuses. If you fall, you die."
Tessal's throat went dry. "You—you're insane!"
"Bwahaha! Maybe!" Garp's laughter cracked like thunder. "But the sea doesn't hand you ropes, brat. It'll kill you quick if you can't adapt."
Tessal's hands shook, but they didn't stop moving. He opened his pack, metal clicking and clattering as he snapped segments together with feverish precision. Soon, a long, armored body slithered out across the cliff's edge—Crawler, a segmented centipede-machine, its dozen red eyes flickering to life. Its hundred metal legs flexed, gripping rock with terrifying ease.
"Crawler, engage!" Tessal commanded, voice rising above the wind.
The machine reared, then latched onto the stone face, anchoring itself with a CHNK! of steel claws. Tessal clambered onto its back, hugging the cold plating as Crawler began its descent.
At first, it moved smoothly, each segment shifting like clockwork gears. Tessal almost let out a breath of relief—until a shadow passed over them.
CRACK!
A boulder smashed into the cliffside just above, spraying shards of rock. Crawler lurched. Tessal almost slipped.
He looked up. Garp was at the cliff's edge, hurling rocks down with casual ease, his grin visible even from this distance.
"Think the world's gonna sit still while you tinker, brat?!" he bellowed. Another boulder whistled through the air.
"Crawler, Rail Body—now!" Tessal shouted.
With a screech of metal, the centipede shifted. Segments detached and reattached in new patterns, redistributing weight. The middle expanded outward into a wide brace as another boulder smashed down, deflecting off the new formation.
"Good! Adapt!" Tessal muttered through clenched teeth. "If he's going to throw the world at us, then we'll just change shape to meet it."
Crawler kept moving, legs finding impossible footholds as Tessal adjusted its configuration on the fly. When loose stones tumbled down, he reworked segments into a shielded coil. When the wall crumbled beneath them, he stretched the body into a long bridge, spanning gaps with its steel spine.
Every second was survival by invention.
By the time they reached the base of the cliff, Tessal was pale, arms aching from gripping controls, lungs burning from grit. Crawler locked its body straight, lowering him gently to the dirt.
He collapsed beside the machine, panting, brushing dust from his face.
A booming impact shook the ground—Garp landed from the cliff above, knees bending as if he'd just hopped off a stool instead of a mountain. He towered over Tessal, hands on his hips, laughing that terrible laugh.
"Not bad, brat! You didn't freeze. You didn't quit. You adapted. Most recruits would've been splattered before they got ten feet."
Tessal blinked sweat out of his eyes, then looked up at Crawler. The machine's plating was dented, legs scuffed raw, but its eyes still glowed steady. He patted its side, exhausted but proud.
"Good job, Crawler… you saved us both."
Garp snorted. "Saved yourself, you mean. That's all a machine can do. The question is—next time, can you save it?"
Tessal froze, the words lodging in his chest. Garp turned away, already stomping toward the forest again.
"Rest up. Tomorrow's lesson will make this look like a picnic."
The centipede's legs clicked faintly in the silence, as if agreeing. Tessal swallowed hard. He knew now—if he wanted to keep his creations alive, he'd have to fight just as hard for them as they did for him.