Chapter One: Twenty-Three Percent

He remembered his parents' battlefield recording, the laughter in the academy hall, the meal voucher on the ground, all the nights he had trained in dead exoskeletons until his hands shook. He was not a genius. He did not need them to admit anything. He needed one chance. The blue light snapped inward. The ancient voice spoke again. "Synchronization rate: one hundred percent." "Assessment: sole compatible pilot." "Ultimate war frame Astra-X, releasing hibernation." The buried hollow began to shake. The machine that had slept for thousands of years lifted its head. Its broken chest core reignited, dark blue light racing through the armor lines. Stone shattered above them. From the shaft overhead came alarms and explosions.