It had been weeks since Theo had last seen another human being.

  At first, the isolation had been manageable. The endless combat drills, the precise, methodical training—they had purpose. Erasmus’ drones pushed him harder every day, sharpening his footwork, his reaction speed, his endurance. The melee units forced him to adapt to faster, stronger opponents. The ranged simulations drilled into him the necessity of cover, unpredictability, survival in open space. Stealth combat had nearly broken him at first, until his implant kicked in and turned the game on its head. The psionic resistance tests? A waste of time. He was a natural blind spot—immune, untouchable. A walking countermeasure against an entire subset of threats.

  It should have been satisfying. It should have been enough.

  But it wasn’t.

  At some point, the victories had stopped feeling like victories.

  Theo sat in the centre of the training chamber, his breath coming hard, sweat dripping from his brow. Around him, another squad of drones lay in smoking heaps, their mechanical bodies sparking and twitching in defeat. Another randomized combat simulation, another adaptive opponent meant to mimic a real-world fight.

  But they weren’t real.

  They didn’t hesitate. They didn’t feel the fight. They moved on programming, on predetermined paths that could be rewritten and tweaked, but never truly unpredictable. They lacked the edge, the uncertainty, the human factor that made a fight a fight. Not to mention there weren't the moments of camaraderie that he shared with training partners before.

  Theo was improving, but for what? Another round against a new set of drones? Another simulated battle in an underground lab with no real stakes? He had spent his entire life fighting real people—men with debts, desperation, reputations on the line. Fighters with something to lose.

  These machines? They had nothing. No flinches, no frustration, no hunger.

  He might as well be shadowboxing.

  Theo exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his sweat-damp hair. He was a rat running an endless maze, chasing a reward he wasn’t even sure existed anymore.

  And then there was the silence.

  He had thought he preferred being alone. He had convinced himself of that for years—some lone wolf, street fighter, self-made. He had told himself he didn’t need people.

  But now?

  Now, the absence of noise gnawed at him.

  No jeering opponents, no roaring crowds, no tension before a fight, no adoring fans or hopeful kids watching from the ropes, looking at him like he was somebody.

  He missed it. The energy of it all. The life of it.

  He had never cared about the glory, not really—but the attention, the eyes on him, the validation that he was worth something? Yeah. He missed that.

  Here, in this sterile, mechanical fortress, he was nothing. No cheers, no stakes, no risks. Just him, his fists, and an unfulfilling regime designed to keep him busy.

  Theo pushed himself to his feet, breathing through the frustration that burned under his skin. He could feel it now, that restless itch crawling through his veins.

  He had to get out.

  It had been weeks—months—since Theo had last seen another human being.

  At first, it didn't matter. Training kept him occupied. Kept him sharp. He’d fought, learned, adapted. But there was only so much purpose a person could squeeze out of fighting glorified training dummies before the hollowness started creeping in.

  And now? Now, the walls of this underground lab felt more like a prison.

  Theo exhaled slowly, steadying himself before stepping forward. "Can I please take a mission?"

  Erasmus barely spared him a glance, fingers gliding over the floating interface of his console. The cold glow of the holographic displays reflected off his sharp features, making him look more machine than man. "No."

  Theo blinked. "No? That’s it? Just no?"

  "You’re not ready."

  That was it. No elaboration. No explanation. Just a dismissive tone that made something in Theo’s gut twist.

  He scoffed, stepping forward, his patience gone. "Bullshit. I’ve trained every damn day. I’ve fought everything you’ve thrown at me. I’ve mastered every counter, every engagement, every goddamn variation of your stupid drones. And yet I’m still stuck here, playing whack-a-mole with your glorified Roombas."* His voice rose, frustration bubbling over. "It’s not real, Raz. I need to get out there. I need to see how I handle myself in the world. Give me a recon task, something simple. Let me prove it."

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  Erasmus finally turned toward him, his expression unreadable. "Why?"

  Theo frowned. "What?"

  "Why do you need to leave?" Erasmus’ gaze was sharp, like he was dissecting Theo piece by piece. "What’s out there that you think you need so badly?"

  Theo’s jaw tightened. "A life. A real challenge. A chance to actually test myself—not just repeat the same simulations over and over. Maybe even meet people? I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, I really do, but this isn’t a game, Raz. It’s my life. You can’t keep me in a box forever."

  Erasmus tilted his head slightly, studying him with that infuriating, analytical detachment. "There’s no need for ‘Missions.’ My drones are faster, more efficient, and infinitely less prone to emotional outbursts."

  Theo let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Unbelievable. You don’t get it, do you?" He stepped forward, tension rolling through his frame. "You think just because you’ve been alive for billions of years or whatever—because you’re the smartest guy in the room—you always know best. That’s not living, Raz. That’s just…existing."

  Erasmus didn’t react. Didn’t flinch. Just stood there, arms crossed, watching Theo unravel like he was running calculations in real-time. "I ensure survival. I do not cater to childish impulses. We can discuss this when you are better equipped."

  Theo clenched his fists, his breath coming heavier. "And what if I don’t just want to survive? What if I want to be more than just one of your projects? God forbid I actually want something beyond this."

  For a moment, just a moment, something flickered in Erasmus’ expression. Then it was gone, replaced with that same cold indifference. "A life?" His voice was almost amused. "Is that what you think awaits you out there? You are deluding yourself, Theo." He turned back to his console, dismissing him like an afterthought. "This world is not the one you came from. It is not waiting to hand you purpose. It will chew you up and spit you out, and I will not waste my time grieving when it does."

  Theo felt something snap inside him.

  "So that’s it, huh?" His voice was quiet now, but heavy. "You’ve already written me off."

  "I simply acknowledge probability." Erasmus didn’t even look at him. "You may think you are prepared, but you are not. You have trained, yes, but you have only faced what I have allowed you to face. Out there, you will not have the luxury of calculated risk. No controlled variables. No second chances."

  Theo let out a slow breath, steadying himself, forcing himself to think past the anger clawing at his chest. "You talk like you don’t even give a shit. Like none of this matters to you. It’s just an equation."

  Erasmus’ fingers hovered over the console for just a second. Barely perceptible. Then he continued working. "What matters is that when you leave, I don’t have to waste resources scraping your remains and my tech off some ruin."

  Theo stepped forward, voice sharp. "Then let me prove it. Send me on a mission. Let me scout, gather supplies—hell, even one of your scavenging runs. Give me something, anything, to show that I can handle it."

  Erasmus exhaled through his nose. "No."

  Theo scoffed. "No? Just like that?"

  "Yes. Just like that."

  Erasmus finally turned this time, and his eyes were hard. "You are still thinking like a human from a dying world—where exploration was a luxury, where failure did not mean eradication." His voice was sharper now. "*That is not the world we are in, Theo. The strong do not simply find their way; they take it when they are ready. And you are not."

  Theo felt his nails bite into his palms. "And who the hell decides when I’m ready? You?" He let out a bitter laugh. "I spent my entire life making my own way, and I sure as hell won’t stop now just because you’ve got some god complex telling you otherwise."

  Erasmus sighed, finally turning fully to face him. "You can walk out that door, but you’re on your own. No drones. No support. No safety net. If you think you’re ready—" His voice dropped slightly, an almost imperceptible edge to his tone. "Prove it. Because I no longer care, and I will not entertain your tantrums.*"

  Theo took a step back, breath steady but body coiled like a spring. His voice, when it came, was quieter—but heavier. "You care, Raz. But not enough to risk being wrong. And that’s why you’ll always be alone."

  Erasmus had already turned away.

  He didn’t say a word.

  But his fingers hesitated over the console for just a fraction of a second—so quick that Theo might have imagined it.

  Theo stood there for a moment longer, waiting—daring him to say something. To show another flicker of hesitation. To stop him.

  But the old man simply continued his work, as if Theo’s departure was just another inevitable conclusion he had already calculated.

  Theo exhaled sharply, jaw tight. His body knew what it wanted before his mind could catch up.

  Leaving meant stepping into the unknown—no drones, no resets, no guarantees.

  But staying?

  That was death of a different kind.

  His fists clenched, and without another word, he turned on his heel toward the exit.

  Erasmus never called after him.

  And Theo never looked back.

  The outside air hit him like a shock—crisp, raw, real. It carried a scent he couldn’t quite place, something untouched, unfiltered by machines. He took a slow breath, filling his lungs with something that wasn’t recycled air from Erasmus’ sterile lab.

  The world stretched out before him, vast and alien, a clash of biomes that shouldn’t have coexisted. Towering, jagged cliffs bled into dense forest. To his back, rolling dunes of violet sand met blackened swamps that pulsed with unnatural bioluminescence. The sky above was a swirling mass of light blues and fractured purples, like shattered glass reflecting some unseen cosmic force.

  He was really doing this.

  For the first few hours, exhilaration carried him. His boots pounded against the earth, his body thrumming with restless energy. He moved fast, mapping terrain, noting landmarks, testing his endurance. Every step forward felt like taking something back—his freedom, his control, his own damn story.

  But then… reality set in.

  This wasn’t a training simulation. There were no reset buttons, no carefully curated difficulty spikes. If he miscalculated, if he made the wrong move—he wouldn’t get a lecture. He’d die. For real.

  And as the first night fell, that realization settled over him like a smothering weight.

  The silence out here was different. It wasn’t the sterile quiet of the lab, where machines hummed and Erasmus always had something dry to mutter. It was deep, stretching into the horizon, broken only by the distant cries of unseen creatures.

  For the first time since stepping outside, doubt crept in.

  But Theo had already started from nothing before.

  He squared his shoulders, gripping the straps of his pack tighter. The weight was his to carry. No safety nets. No guarantees.

  This world wasn’t waiting for him.

  But that just meant he’d have to take his place in it.