The generator hummed steadily behind me, a rhythmic vibration that sank into my core and refused to leave. The green light of the cavern rippled faintly, like a living pulse radiating from the rune-etched walls. I stood still, claws hanging loose, staring at the status window hovering in front of me.

  The glow of my core pulsed faintly—a sharp reminder that I was alive, even if I wasn’t sure what being alive meant anymore. My wheels shifted slightly against the cold stone floor. This body felt alien to me, harsh and unfamiliar, but the system hadn’t let me stop to dwell on that since the moment I woke up. One task after another. One distraction after another.

  Another window flickered into view, its angular text sharp enough to carve through my thoughts:

  Basic Storage Module. Modular Armament Station. Core Expansion Node. The names sat heavy in my mind, blunt and purposeful. I ran a claw lightly along the edge of the platform, carving thin lines into the stone. The system didn’t care about what I wanted—it gave me tasks like clockwork, pushing me forward every time I hesitated.

  Before I could delve deeper into my spiraling thoughts, the status window shifted again, blazing bright red against the cavern’s green glow:

  My claws snapped against the edge of the platform, the sound echoing faintly across the chamber. Fifteen minutes. That wasn’t long—not when I didn’t even know what was coming. My core pulsed sharply, almost stumbling, as the words settled over me.

  Another window appeared before I could react:

  I gritted my claws, stone grinding against metal. Two Mana Crystals. Just enough to pay the cost. The system didn’t leave room for deliberation—not now, not ever. I reached into my storage compartment and pulled the crystals free, their faint blue glow flickering nervously in my claws. They felt fragile, and strangely alive.

  I muttered under my breath, though I wasn’t sure the words belonged to me... Or if they were real at all. My claws hovered for a moment before I placed the crystals on the platform. The system responded instantly.

  The platform trembled faintly as the Mana Crystals dissolved into shimmering motes of light, their energy cascading into the runes etched into the stone. The glow spread outward like roots, intertwining with the spiraling beams of green light that rose steadily from the base of the platform.

  The air shifted, thick with the hum of the generator syncing perfectly to the rhythm of the runes. Pieces of dark, angular material lifted themselves from the depths of the station, locking into place with precision as the light guided their assembly. Each component snapped together with a satisfying finality, forming a skeletal frame that pulsed faintly with the energy coursing through it.

  The green glow flared, illuminating the cavern walls and casting sharp shadows that seemed to dance along the jagged edges of the rune-etched stone. The energy veins running through the frame pulsed in time with the vibrations of the platform, breathing life into the modular structure as it rose higher and higher.

  I watched as the station began to take form, its design raw and industrial, built for function rather than beauty. Jagged, angular lines dominated its shape, giving it an air of untamed power. The faint hum from the generator swelled into a crescendo as the final components slid into place, locking together with a resounding metallic echo that reverberated through the chamber.

  The light faded slightly, leaving behind the steady, rhythmic pulse of the newly completed station. Its green veins glowed faintly, their patterns complex and alive, almost mimicking the cracks that lined my own modular frame.

  The system chimed softly, dragging my attention back to the status window:

  I rolled closer to the structure, its imposing frame looming over me like a silent sentinel. The faint hum of its pulse radiated through the cavern, syncing briefly with the hum of my core.

  The station’s pulse reverberated through me, a rhythm that seemed to intertwine with my own as I approached the towering structure. Its angular frame, rigid and powerful, radiated quiet purpose—like a puzzle waiting for the first piece to fall into place. My claws twitched faintly as the faint green shimmer of its interface reached toward me, brushing against the jagged edges of my modular body.

  I hovered over the control panel, hesitating briefly. The Modular Armament Station wasn’t just a tool—it was something meant to change me. The system didn’t care that I was still figuring out what I was or what I had become. It didn’t care that this body felt like it didn’t quite belong to me. All it cared about was progress.

  The list of options floated before me, glowing sharply against the shadows of the cavern. The system wasn’t asking me to pick a tool—it was forcing me to decide who I was going to become in this alien body. One module. One chance to prepare.

  My claws ran along the edge of the Armament Station, the angular grooves of its frame sharp against the movement. I hadn’t even been in this form for an hour, but the weight of it was already pressing down on me. The cold detachment of these jagged limbs, the mechanical hum of my core—it didn’t feel like mine, not yet. Maybe it never would.

  But the system didn’t care about how I felt. It had been dragging me from one task to another since I woke up, throwing me headfirst into survival before I could even stop to process what I was. Maybe that was the point.

  I flexed my claws instinctively, stone grinding against stone, as the text shifted sharply into view:

  I sighed faintly—at least, I thought I did. My claws hovered over the first option, expanding the tooltip. The system’s descriptions etched themselves into the air:

  The glow from the station reflected faintly against the cracks running along my frame as I tilted my head. I couldn’t deny the appeal of brute strength—something to match the raw power I already carried in every step. This body wasn’t delicate; it was built to take damage, to dish it out, to dominate in close quarters. Adding the drill would turn me into a wrecking machine, both against the terrain and anything foolish enough to get in my way.

  But raw power wasn’t always enough. I moved to the next option, letting the tooltip flicker to life:

  I glanced over at the generator, its hum steady and endless. The Trophy System’s energy consumption might have been a drawback to someone else, but not to me—not here. With the infinite power surging through this chamber, I could keep the system running indefinitely.

  It was tempting. It wasn’t just defense—it was instinct, acting faster than I could, cutting out the guesswork and catching projectiles I wouldn’t even see coming. In an unknown fight, where the enemy could be anywhere, that kind of safety was invaluable.

  But it wasn’t proactive. It wouldn’t help me fight back. And trusting an automated system with everything? That left a bad taste in my mouth.

  I tightened my claws, stone grinding softly against the panel, and shifted to the final option. The text snapped into place:

  Barriers, turrets, repairs—it wasn’t flashy, but it wasn’t supposed to be. This module wasn’t a weapon or a shield—it was a toolkit. It gave me control, let me shape the battlefield before the fight even began. If I used it well, I wouldn’t just survive—I’d have the advantage.

  The system was clear about the tradeoff, though. Construction wasn’t instant. These weren’t solutions I could deploy mid-fight—not without leaving myself vulnerable. But the countdown reminded me that time was something I still had. Minutes to prepare, to build, to adapt. That negated the module’s biggest flaw, leaving behind nothing but potential.

  I leaned back, staring at the three options as they hovered in the air. Power. Safety. Adaptability. Each one played to a different instinct, pulled at a different side of me. The decision wasn’t just about surviving the first wave—it was about shaping who I’d become in this impossible body.

  The faint pulse of the station rippled through me, syncing with the hum of the generator and the thrum of my core. Somewhere beyond the chamber, something was waiting for me, counting down alongside the system. Whatever it was, I had to be ready.

  The countdown ticked again, another second gone. My claws trembled slightly as I gripped the interface, steadying myself. There wasn’t a right choice here. No perfect answer. There was just a decision to be made.

  With a sharp, deliberate motion, I pressed the interface, locking in my choice.

  The Modular Armament Station flared to life as the choice locked in, its green veins pulsing brighter than before. The faint hum deepened into a sharp vibration that rolled through the cavern walls, reverberating against the jagged stone and settling heavily into my frame.

  I stepped closer, my claws twitching slightly as I watched the station shift. Its angular components moved with purpose, extending outward as beams of energy wrapped themselves around my arm. My core pulsed harder, erratically, as the light closed around the jagged modular surface—and then it tightened its grip.

  The first jolt wasn’t something I could ignore. My claws froze, trembling slightly as the machinery embedded in the station began to wrench my arm free. Metal grated against stone, jagged edges snapping under the force. Sparks of green energy cut through the seams of the frame, severing the connections as easily as slicing through paper.

  For a moment, I waited for the pain—the sharp, unrelenting agony of losing a limb. I braced for it, every fragmented instinct screaming at me to prepare for the worst. But nothing came.

  Nothing.

  The sound should’ve been deafening—metal snapping and grinding against stone, the faint hum of my core stretched thin as the station tore me apart. But all I felt was absence. The station wasn’t just removing my arm—it was dismantling it, piece by piece, until nothing was left.

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  My core thudded faintly, unevenly, as I stared down at the jagged stump where my arm had been, green light spilling outward as the process continued. It should have hurt. It should have brought me to my knees. But instead, there was nothing—just the cold, clinical efficiency of the system continuing its work.

  The station didn’t stop. Beams of light arced and spiraled around the empty space where my arm had been, weaving together the massive frame of the new module. The green glow intensified as pieces of dark, angular material rose into place, clicking together with mechanical precision.

  When the light finally dimmed, the drill stood in its place—a colossal, industrial tool that dominated my entire forearm. Its serrated edges gleamed faintly with infused energy, a faint hum vibrating through its high-torque core. It looked like something meant to tear through mountains, jagged and imposing, its design raw and unyielding.

  I flexed the new limb experimentally, the weight heavier than I expected but not unwieldy. The drill spun briefly in response, its serrated edges vibrating with an audible whirr before settling into a steady pulse. It felt powerful, complete. And that was the most unnerving part—it didn’t feel out of place. It felt right. Too right.

  The system chimed softly as the integration finalized:

  I raised the imposing drill, testing its movement as the cavern’s green light reflected off its serrated edges. The sharp hum of the rotary mechanism pulsed faintly, syncing with the steady beat of my core. It wasn’t just a tool. It was an extension of me now, a limb that didn’t belong yet felt like it had always been there.

  I rolled back slightly, staring down at the jagged, industrial monstrosity that had replaced my arm. The Armament Station fell silent behind me, its glow dimming as its work completed. Somewhere beyond the cavern, the first wave was waiting—counting down, just like the system.

  I brushed my robotic claw on the drill, the serrated edges sparking faintly against what is now considered my hand. I muttered, words only I could hear.

  The cavern buzzed with the faint hum of the generator, its green light spilling into every jagged corner. My newly integrated drill whirred softly at my side, its serrated edges catching the faint glow. The three cavern entrances stared back at me, wide and dark, open invitations to whatever the system had sent my way. They needed to be controlled—not sealed completely, but reshaped to give me the upper hand.

  The thought of collapsing the entire entrances occurred to me for a split second, but I quickly dismissed it. Block them entirely, and I’d force the wave to destroy the barricades outright, likely widening their own path in the process. No, I needed to channel them, funnel them into positions where their options were limited—and their balance was tenuous.

  The drill spun sharply as I rolled toward the first entrance, its weight a constant reminder of the changes forced onto me. My claws dug lightly into the stone floor as I positioned myself, eyeing the wide mouth of the corridor. I muttered under my non existent breath.

  The drill roared to life, sending sparks of green light cascading across the walls as it bit into the stone. I angled it downward, carving deep, uneven holes into the ground just inside the hallway. The vibrations echoed harshly through the cavern as chunks of debris tumbled to the floor, forming jagged pits that would turn every step into a risk. Keeping balance in here would be a challenge for anything moving too quickly—or too confidently.

  Satisfied with the jagged array of holes, I turned my attention to narrowing the entrance itself. The serrated edges of the drill hummed as I drove it into the wall, tearing massive chunks of stone free with every pass. The wall gave way reluctantly, pieces falling in rough heaps that I dragged into position to form a crude blockade. It wasn’t pretty, but it would do the job—funneling anything entering into a single, controlled checkpoint.

  Rolling back slightly, I examined my work. The path was narrow now, flanked by uneven piles of stone, with gaping holes cut into the ground that would force anything traversing it to tread carefully. It wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t need to be. All I needed was an advantage, something to force the wave to come at me on my terms.

  I moved quickly to the next entrance, wasting no time as the countdown in the corner of my vision ticked steadily forward. My wheels scraped faintly against the stone as I rolled into position, the drill spinning eagerly as I brought it to bear. This time, the holes came first, the serrated edges grinding deep into the floor as debris scattered in every direction. The pits were uneven, chaotic—just the way I wanted them. Anything entering here would have to navigate the terrain carefully, their movements restricted and slowed.

  The walls fell next, crumbling under the relentless power of the drill. I shoved the debris into place, forming another narrow passage with the jagged rocks piled high on either side. The makeshift barriers weren’t indestructible, but they didn’t need to be. All they needed was to hold long enough to buy me time.

  I paused for a moment, my core pulsing faintly as I looked back at the work I’d done. The holes, the barricades—they were crude and hastily made, but they gave me control. My movements felt more deliberate now, more assured, as I moved toward the final entrance.

  The third corridor was the widest of them all, its dark expanse yawning like a waiting predator. I stared at it for a moment, adjusting my grip on the drill as I rolled into position. The tool roared to life again, the sound resonating through the cavern as I began carving the first set of holes.

  The process was methodical now, each pit cut deep and uneven, a chaotic minefield stretching across the hall. My claws scraped lightly against the floor as I shifted the drill upward, driving it into the walls with the same brutal precision. Chunks of stone fell in heavy crashes, the sound filling the chamber as I dragged the debris into place.

  When the final blockade was complete, I rolled back to the center of the cavern, the drill spinning idly as I surveyed the entrances. The once-wide passages were now narrow choke points, flanked by crude stone barricades and riddled with treacherous holes. The generator’s glow illuminated the scene, casting sharp shadows across the uneven terrain I’d created.

  My core pulsed harder as the countdown ticked closer to zero. The barricades wouldn’t stop the wave, but they would funnel it, slow it, force it to stumble and falter. They were an invitation—an open door that promised resistance but not complete denial. The holes would throw their footing, the narrow paths would expose them, and when they reached me, I’d be ready.

  The drill’s weight hung heavily at my side, its serrated edges humming faintly as I tightened my grip on the control. Somewhere beyond the barricades, the first wave was moving. The silence in the cavern felt oppressive, broken only by the hum of the generator and the faint, rhythmic thrum of my core.

  I glanced at the closest entrance, the jagged piles of stone standing like silent sentinels. I thought of myself saying out loud,

  The barricades stood tall and uneven, their jagged outlines illuminated by the green glow spilling out from the generator. The makeshift holes I drilled into the ground near the entrances yawned like open mouths, waiting for their first victims. My drill hummed faintly at my side, its serrated edges glinting in the light as I gripped it tightly. The weight of the tool pressed against me, unfamiliar and heavy.

  A single notification blinked softly in the corner of my vision:

  The faint noise of movement crept into the cavern—scratching, shuffling, low guttural sounds that echoed off the walls. My wheels shifted uneasily on the stone floor as I turned toward the nearest entrance. It didn’t take long for the first figures to emerge from the shadows, stepping cautiously into the glow of the chamber.

  They were small, wiry creatures with moss-colored, leathery skin—goblins, unmistakably. They moved with jittery energy, darting forward to prod at the barricades with crude weapons: jagged stones and sharpened sticks. Behind them, a hobgoblin loomed larger, hefting a battered metal pipe. Its broad shoulders and deliberate movements made it seem like the leader of this ragged group, a fact the system was quick to reinforce.

  I froze for a moment, staring at the creatures in disbelief. Monsters. Real, actual monsters. The kind of thing I’d only ever seen in fantasy stories, now standing right there, clawing at the barricades I’d built with my own hands. My thoughts stumbled over themselves, trying to make sense of it, but the system wouldn’t let me linger.

  One of the goblins leapt forward, finding a gap in the terrain I’d drilled. Its bony fingers reached out, scrabbling at the rubble with surprising speed. I barely registered my own movements as the drill roared to life in my hands. The serrated edges spun violently, a high-pitched scream of metal-on-stone filling the chamber as I brought it down on the goblin.

  The results were immediate—and brutal. The drill didn’t just strike the creature; it tore into it. The spinning teeth ripped through its leathery hide, sending chunks of greenish blood and flesh spraying in every direction. The goblin barely had time to let out a choked cry before it was gone, its body reduced to little more than shredded remnants that scattered across the cavern floor.

  I reeled back instinctively, stunned by the sheer destructive power of the drill. My frame trembled faintly, the vibration of the tool buzzing through my core. There was no time to process what I’d just done. Two more goblins rushed the barricade, their movements erratic as they clambered over the rubble.

  The drill spun again as I swung it forward, catching both goblins in a single sweeping arc. The first exploded on contact, its body obliterated in a flash of green mist. The second staggered back, missing an arm, before collapsing into the rubble with a wet thud.

  Behind them, the hobgoblin let out a guttural roar. It advanced with purpose, shoving aside the smaller creatures as it stepped into the narrow passage. Its weapon—a jagged metal pipe—clanged loudly against the stone as it dragged it forward.

  The system pinged softly, calm and insistent.

  The hobgoblin locked eyes with me, its yellowed pupils narrowing as it hefted the pipe. It charged without hesitation, closing the distance in a few lumbering strides. The pipe swung down hard, colliding with my frame in a burst of sparks. The blow barely registered—I was too large, too solid—but the sound rang loudly in my audio receivers.

  I swung the drill up in response, the serrated edges screaming as they connected with the hobgoblin’s chest. The impact was devastating. The drill didn’t stop at the surface—it burrowed in, tearing through skin, bone, and muscle in a shower of green ichor. The hobgoblin’s roar turned into a wet, gurgling sound as the drill carved through its torso, shredding everything in its path.

  When I finally pulled the drill free, the hobgoblin collapsed in a crumpled heap, its body unrecognizable. What was left of its chest cavity leaked viscous green fluid onto the cavern floor, pooling around the jagged remains of its limbs.

  The remaining goblins froze, their courage evaporating as they saw their leader’s fate. They stumbled over each other in their haste to flee, darting back into the tunnels with panicked screeches.

  I stared at the empty entrance, the drill still humming faintly at my side. My thoughts raced, torn between shock and adrenaline. The hobgoblin, the goblins—it had all happened so fast. Too fast. And the drill…I hadn’t expected it to be so destructive. So final.

  The system’s calm voice broke through the haze:

  I turned back toward the generator, the faint hum of my core syncing with its steady pulse. The cavern felt quieter now, the tension slowly fading, but the weight of the drill was still there—heavy, unrelenting. There’d be more waves to come, I was certain of it.

  The hum of the drill faded, leaving behind only the low vibrations of the generator and the heavy silence of the cavern. My barricades stood resolute, jagged and uneven, their edges painted with thick streaks of green ichor. I stared at the carnage, at the broken bodies scattered across the ground, and tried to hold onto the system’s words. I was defending my base. That was all this was. Defending my base.

  But my claw trembled, scraping faintly against the stone as I stared down at the remains. The goblins, the hobgoblins—they hadn’t stood a chance. The drill hadn’t just stopped them; it had obliterated them. Limbs torn clean off, bodies shredded beyond recognition. The green mist of their blood still hung faintly in the air, clinging to my frame and the serrated edges of the drill.

  They were invaders, the system had said. A threat to the core, to my survival. And yet… I couldn’t stop seeing the fear in their eyes, the way their movements faltered the closer they got to me. The way they turned and ran when they realized they couldn’t win.

  I didn’t chase them. That wasn’t part of the objective. But the silence they left behind pressed against me like a weight I couldn’t shake.

  The drill hung heavily at my side, its jagged edges coated in green. I flexed my claws instinctively, the scraping sound grounding me, pulling me back into the reality of the moment. They were trying to destroy the core. That was what the system said. That was what mattered. Right?

  A cold, clinical voice echoed in my mind, cutting through the haze:

  The system’s tone was calm, steady, like none of this even registered as important. It didn’t care about the blood or the broken bodies. It didn’t care that my hands—or claws—were shaking, or that my core felt like it was caught in a vice. All that mattered was the base. The core. The next objective.

  I let out something like a sigh—though it wasn’t really a sigh. Just a faint sound, a reflex from a body that wasn’t mine anymore.

  The goblins had been a threat. That much I had to believe. They’d been trying to breach the barricades, to get to the core. To destroy what I’d built. That’s what the system kept telling me, over and over, with its cold precision. But the longer I stared at the remains, the less certain I felt.

  I hadn’t been sure what to expect when I came to this place—when I woke up like this. I’d never been in a fight before, let alone anything like this. I wasn’t a soldier or a killer. I’d been… normal. Human. I had a job, an apartment, a life that was small and predictable and safe. But now?

  I glanced towards the bloody drill, the whirring sound breaking the heavy silence. There was no room for those thoughts. Not here, not now.

  The system pinged again, its voice cutting sharply into the quiet:

  I looked down at the ichor-streaked ground one last time before turning back toward the generator. My wheels scraped lightly against the stone as I moved, the drill’s weight pulling at me with every step. The system didn’t care about the aftermath, or the silence, or the sick feeling gnawing at the edges of my thoughts.

  All that mattered was the base. The core. The next step. And for now, that had to be enough.