["Hello. Grandmaster Tzu. Grandmaster Walker. I am inoperable. Can you assist?"] came a voice that abruptly entered Harrison's head. It was flat, emotionless, and felt like the color gray.

The engineer felt just as much as he heard the strike team step up behind him defensively, their guarded uncertainty bleeding into him. Shar put her shield just to his side, prepped to snap it in front of him at a moment's notice, in case the motionless head of a stripped, immobile automaton dared to make a move.

He softly pressed against her massive barrier as if to push it away, taking in a slow breath. There was nothing to be afraid of.

"Hello…" He trailed off and let an awkward silence fill the air, his mind racing to find a good place to start this conversation. "It looks like you already know us… What are you?"

["M.A.X. Number zero-one-eight-three. Generation seven exterminator. Type: Sentinel."]

"What are your capabilities? What does 'MAX' stand for?" Tracy asked, stepping forward.

["'M.A.X.' is the acronym of 'Multi Armed Exterminator.' I am uncertain of my full capabilities. I am capable of seeing, speaking, and understanding at this moment. I am incapable of my purpose."]

"What is your purpose, then?" the technician pressured, crossing her arms over her chest.

["Extermination."]

"Of what? The infestation?"

["Yes. That is why I must be repaired."]

Harrison made his way to Tracy's side, Shar making sure to stand right behind him the entire time. "What is the infestation? What were you fighting?"

["The infestation is… I fought against…"] The automaton paused, a sense of confusion seeping into its tone. ["I do not know how to explain it."]

Tracy mouthed a few silent, unrecognizable words in frustration before continuing her attempt to find answers. "What do you mean, you don't know how to explain it? Are you unable to process it or do you have a data problem."

["I am not connected to the Bastion. I am severed."]

The engineer raised a brow. "The Bastion? Which is?"

["It is where…"]

Stumped again. The severed head of the automaton didn't move, but he could have sworn it deflated somewhat. "What do you have stored in your local files?"

["A standard information database is accessible."]

"Does any of it include information about the High Spirits? The colonists?" Harrison queried.

["Yes. There is information of the city and UPSCC's efforts."]

Tracy looked up at him with a look that said 'where do we go from here?' He returned the same expression. What did he want to know about the colony? Where did he even begin?

A soft, supple tail curled around his waist, easing his tension. He stared at the floor, rotating his jaw around in thought. Should he start with the collapse? What about the very beginning?

The technician who spoke up first, her sympathetic but determined eyes glancing up at the engineer. "What… What happened to the colony?"

["What do you mean?"]

Tracy frowned, holding onto her biceps. "Why is the colony… 'New High Spirits' in disrepair? Is it because of the infestation?"

["New High Spirits has fallen?"] the automaton responded in the same, flat tone, but it felt quieter, concerned. ["Grandmasters, when was this confirmed?"]

"When we landed," Harrison stated, his voice controlled. "We're the pioneers sent to prepare this planet for the High Spirits. We haven't seen any activity of its crew besides the ruins of their underground facilities. There isn't a lot we've explored, and there could be others. But, by now, it's doubtful there are any at all."

["I see… This includes the passing of the Bastion AI and the House Divisions."] A quiet whining noise came from the severed automaton head, as if servos and other mechanical parts within were working overtime… But there wasn't anything like that in there. It was just wires, circuit boards, and…

The robot continued, a constant humming reverberating from its interior. ["My last orders were to clear the tram network for the engineering division's extraction. Failure. My orders are currently null. My directive is null. My purpose is null. Grandmasters, what is my current directive?"]

Tracy frowned, a sorrowful expression tenting her brows. Harrison felt it too. It was just a machine, but the way it softly whined and listed its nullified purpose struck a chord in his heart. As much of a disappointment as it was not to receive immediate answers to his thousands of questions, he didn't feel let down. He just felt melancholy.

Harrison only had one response for the lost robot. "Your new directive is to support this settlement and ensure it succeeds in the colony's place."

The technician nodded her approval, warmly squeezing his forearm—When did she get a hold of him?

["Directive understood… One moment… I am still currently inoperable. How may I assist as I am?"]

He thought for a second. "Sebas, are you able to communicate with the automaton now that it's on?"

Sebas responded concisely, ["I am not, sir. My injections are unable to bypass the central component."]

The engineer exhaled slowly. Figures. He made his way to the web of wires, sensors, and other miscellaneous electronics set up. Tracy and Shar tagged along with their limbs, still attached to him, acting like leads. The technician loosened her grip, but the paladin's grew tighter. The squad of other big girls marched behind him, taking up his flanks as if the machines would suddenly sprout legs and attack him.

He gave them a curious look but didn't complain in the slightest. It took him a moment to confirm the cable connections to the universal ports. There were two intakes that looked more like valve openings instead of wire attachment points, leaving more questions.

"Right, MAX, I need you to share your files over the connection to the module AI," Harrison requested. Sebas' initial assessment of the 'unknown' component came to mind. "Is that possible?"

["It is. File sharing is permitted under grandmaster approval."]

The automaton went quiet for a few moments as the data was evidently transferred, and a quick notification from the module assistant confirmed it was completed. Sebas admitted the information was stored unusually—not enough to be unusable, thankfully.

["I was created for more than sharing information. I would be better suited with orders and the means to exterminate. I am limited in this form,"] the limbless robot stated flatly.

Harrison looked at Tracy, who absently played with her tank top's straps. She hummed in contemplation. "I still won't know what's going on in its head until I get my hands on it, so I doubt we could just stuff the head into a hunter and expect it to work. I think we'd also have to look into that data and do some experimenting, too."

She frowned. "Sorry, I don't think we'll be able to get anything happening right now—" her eyes met with the engineer's. "—not until after the blood-moon."

["Understood,"] the robot returned, heavy with disappointment. ["If there is no need for me, I will return to a low power mode. Activate me when I am needed and operable."]

Nothing happened after that, but it was assumed the automaton had powered off. Meanwhile, Harrison rubbed his eyes as he considered what to do next.

"Well… Sebas, do you have any more data from this?"

["Besides the data package, there are a few other details to note, sir. Electrical signals were detected within the central component. These were found to be similar to organic nerve signals. However, there is no organic material detected within. Additionally, it appears to be sending pulses similar to a wireless signal throughout its time in an online mode. The purpose or messages are unknown."]

"…Alright. Can you make another folder for these observations? Name it 'M.A.X. Observations.'"

The technician huffed, offering a hopeful look to him. "Interesting, but… Damn. Looks like we won't be getting answers any time soon. Maybe we'll find something or another in those files?"

"Probably. I'm not sure if I want to start digging into those just yet."

Harrison gave it one more look before turning around, noting the anxious and curious gazes on him coming from the strike team. Some looked past him at the lifeless robot, scouring it further. Most of them held their weapons at the ready.

"That thing… It speaks…" Sharky stated, subtly inching around to put herself between him and the automaton.

"Yeah, of course it does—" Wait. Harrison blinked twice before the realization slapped him with enough force to make him feel nauseous. The exterminator was speaking in his mind. It wasn't talking. He was so used to the Malkrin voices being injected straight into his brain that he hardly even considered it out of the normal…

He paused again. The exploration team also heard it back in the ruins. With everything that's happened over the last couple of days, he almost forgot about it entirely. God, was he losing it? Maybe drinking Cera's concoction twice in a row may have started affecting him.

Harrison looked up at the paladin, his tone lowered. "So, you heard everything here?"

Her head cautiously recoiled back. "Was I not intended to be privy to such conversations?"

"No, you're… fine…" he assured, not yet sure of how the settlers viewed the old colony and how much they knew. He ran a hand through his hair. "I had just assumed you couldn't, given Sebas doesn't register with you all. Does the robot sound any different?"

"Its intent is cold," Javelin stated roughly.

Shar nodded. "Indeed. It felt like a gust of frigid winter air on my frills… That is not even mentioning how silent the machine is without any subtle projection of its vital intent."

Faint projections of agreement were offered from the strike squad as uncertainty grew over the steel creature. Harrison furrowed his brows in confusion. "What do you mean? Isn't intent how you speak?"

"Indeed," the paladin answered casually. "The Gods have blessed us with the means to a voice. However, every living being has its own vital intent that is emitted. It is like how your machines have a subtle buzz to their operation—miniscule but a part of the environment."

"But the automaton still 'speaks' to you?"

"Correct."

Harrison ran his hand through his hair again, holding it still at the top. They heard the automaton in their heads, understood it, but it didn't have something living things have…

There was definitely some component that bridged the gap between circuits and intent. That would mean there was a way to translate information to the Malkrin across long distances and who knew what else—it was goddamn telepathy made into a robot.

His mind instantly kickstarted several projects on how to utilize that kind of power, his curiosity piqued at how it was possible and whether or not it was easily replicable with what he had on hand… Until reality hit him in the face via a soft tug from Tracy.

She seemed to share a bit of his excitement and interest with how her lips curled upward, but the urgency in her eyes told him otherwise.

"Yeah?" he asked.

She nodded toward her corner of the workshop, offering a fragile smirk. "I know you're thinking about looking into that data, but since we've gotten the quarry set up, I think we should tune your exoskeleton today. I'd like to get that outta the way before you start the team training tonight. Y'know, so you can get used to how it feels?"

He briefly looked to Shar, and then the strike team. There were only a couple of hours until the colony went to sleep. "Right, lead the way."

- - - - -

Harrison's heart pumped through his chest, his breathing completely ragged and barely contained to a 'rhythm.' He rounded the final corner of the settlement and into the workshop, a little reconnaissance drone and three Malkrin following him close by. His head was held up loosely, the strain on him flaring up a subtle nausea within his mind and the faint pins and needles underneath his skin.

Tracy waved him over to her station as he took off his helmet, wiped his brow, and pushed back his sweat-slicked hair. It took him a moment to catch his breath when he finally made it beside her. He gave a quick nod to Rei, who was testing out mech controls on the desk behind the technician, before giving his attention to the human.

"So… how was it?"

The tradeswoman beamed. "Under twenty minutes is pretty damn good!"

He raised a brow. "For five miles with an exoskeleton? Isn't that a bit over the mark?"

She shrugged, fully turning her chair to face him. "Well, yeah, for trained spec-ops dudes. Still, you locked the hell in after the first mile. How're your ankles feeling?"

The engineer looked down at his feet, noting how numb his legs felt. The automatic push-off force tied into his ankle motion alongside the heavy, ground-resistance-focused boots applied to his usual armor definitely put a bit of strain on his natural motion. But, it didn't feel bad. As exhausted as he was from the sprint, he could honestly go for another few miles before he really fell apart.

Harrison gave Tracy a thumbs up before he turned around to face his bodyguards, who hadn't participated in the sprinting, instead having one of them jog beside him at a time. He gestured to his legs. "Did my sprint look off at all?"

Shar shook her head, and the others did the same. The machine-gunner spoke up. "You push off with great force, indenting the ground like a female would… It is quite formidable for your size."

He shrugged. With the boots, leg supports, battery pack, weight-bearing components, and the arm servos, he was about fifty pounds heavier, despite feeling lighter than he would with his usual rucksack. Shar and Tracy also planned on adding a few more plates of armor over the areas where his orbital drop ranger kit didn't have much, like around the neck, so it'd likely end up around sixty or seventy pounds extra total.

For now, he was feeling pretty limber. The first minute with the automatic leg-motion feedback was disorienting, but he got used to it rather quickly. He wasn't happy about selfishly wasting myomer on himself, but it was a small amount compared to how much they harvested. The use of it actually had him excited. It was thrilling to be able to jump nearly three meters in the air and hop even farther forward.

There was also the recoil buffer applied over his right shoulder, which should definitely help him keep that arm attached for a few more blood moons. Hell, none of that was even mentioning that he was able to carry another hundred or so pounds on top of his previous maximum, meaning he could have even more storage.

It was everything he could've asked for, all at the cost of an extra battery pack on top of the one he already carried on his back. Well, there were a few uncomfortable motions that the exoskeleton just about prevented, restraining him to a normal posture, but that wasn't too bad.

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He was smiling ear to ear, unsure of which woman to direct it at, given that both Shar and Tracy worked their assess off to make sure it was the perfect fit for him. Not to mention that the exoskeleton wasn't something he directly asked for, and he definitely wasn't used to getting gifts like this. It made him feel a little out of place.

"This is amazing. Thank you both for looking out for me. It'll save my ass in the future, I know it."

Sharky bowed by her waist, coming back up with a massive smile. "You are most welcome. I am exceptionally pleased your armor additions are ideal." She nodded at Tracy. "Your Artificer has been most patient and attentive with my requests for its perfection."

The technician shrugged from her seat, holding her arms out wide. She already had her own small smirk on. "Of course I was patient. I want him to be in the best condition, and you know how he fights, so…"

She let her hands down, resting her temple on a fist atop the desk and gazing at him warmly. "Also, you're totally welcome, dude. It was a fun project to work on between all the quarrying dogs and mothership networking. And, again, I want you to be as safe as possible."

He walked to where Tracy sat, beckoning the girls to follow. "Glad to hear it was… So, on the same topic, I remember you mentioned something about the phobos armor being optional for powered supports like this. Do you—"

"YES!" the tradeswoman exclaimed, gripping her chair's armrests. "I definitely won't be able to get through that before tomorrow, but I would sucking love to work on the 'power' part of power armor—as long as there isn't any drone business to deal with right after the blood-moon, right?"

"I wouldn't ask you to balance all that at once, Trace," he assured, resting a palm on top of her chair.

She pouted as she looked up at him, crossing her arms over her chest in disbelief. "You balance all your shit, I can handle a little bit of fun on the side as long as it ain't networking."

"Were you implying that we, too, could benefit from the same mechanical benefits that you have presented?" Sharky asked, continuing to look up and down Harrison's armored exterior. There was also something else in her eyes…

"They were originally supposed to have implants to help with movement and weight management," Tracy deadpanned, holding out an arm in explanation. "It'd just take a bit of work to reintegrate them, but for your armor… Hmm. We'd have to see about that going forward—assuming you want to keep that set instead of upgrading to the phobos pattern armor.

The paladin's eyes went wide, glowing with an orange flame. "Of course I want to keep this armor! It is my holy gift! It is the crux of my channeled devotion to my trial, a symbol of my unwavering conviction under the ire of all that opposes my Goddess and her blessings, and even more so for my loyalty to the Creator!"

"…And, yourself, too, Great Artificer," she added impassively.

She gestured to the technician and the engineer, leaving him speechless under her immediate fervor.

Tracy rolled her eyes, but her smirk hadn't died—she did design Shar's armor, after all. "Again, like I said, we'll see about it after the blood-moon. For now, I gotta finish up Harrison's armor and set up the MLRS' new dialogue interfaces."

Shar withdrew herself somewhat, rotating closer to Harrison. She spoke with a minimal amount of reverence. "Of course, your work is greater than that which I can adjudicate. Forgive my brazenness."

The technician shrugged, losing interest and looking at the engineer with a passive radiance in her eye. "You've already gone through the other strength and endurance tests. I'll wrap up the excess armor with Shar's notes while you finish getting comfortable, so… catch you later?"

"Catch you later, then." Harrison smiled, giving the short woman a soft squeeze on her shoulder, sending a dusting of red over her cheeks.

He went to turn around, but heard a quiet whisper… Tracy? "What's that, Trace?"

"What?" the tradeswoman responded. "Need something else?"

"No, I… Nevermind."

Again?

Harrison clicked his tongue twice to gather Shar and the two guardswomen's attention, gesturing for them to follow him out to the range. Most of the other girls would be congregating there soon enough for their training anyway.

The paladin should be leading the strike team's practices that were going on right now, but given her insistence on his protection, things had to be done a bit differently. Which was why Javelin was currently running some practical drills for reloading, sprinting, and position rotations with the females who weren't currently taking up his flanks and rear. That was completely fine. The strike team was a well-oiled machine and they would be ready for the blood-moon, even if the wall design changed. The girls were ready for anything.

Still, he'd like to see them train with their squad leader more…

The shooting range just outside the western wall came into view, the racket of gunfire and infrequent explosions getting louder with each step. The place was different each day. What started out as a flat plane of grass had now been turned into a fully-fledged zone, perfect for sharpening the settlers' accuracy.

There was level ground for around one-hundred meters with steel and replaceable paper targets, alongside some wooden mockeries of the different bug types made from yet-to-be-recycled material at different distances.

The strike team had asked the harvesters who carved in their free time to make a few, and they obliged. The lumber they used would have been recycled or cut down for filler material, but using it for targets wasn't so bad, given the recycler picked bullets out of the shredded remains just fine. And Harrison had to admit, it was pretty satisfying to hit some of the longer-range shots on the mock bugs.

What was even better was that the 'arena of accuracy' also had different elevations for the firing lanes to mimic the wall heights, which helped immensely for practicing grenade throws or shooting MK19s. Of course, the tall structures were technically in the way of the west wall, but they were easily taken down for the blood-moon. Yet, even then, the bugs hardly ever came from the west, mostly congregating from the north and the south, filing perfectly into the encirclements of the in-construction star fort.

He approached the small tarp roof hung up against the finished concrete wall, where dozens of ammunition cans, boxes of grenades, all manner of weapon parts, and a big 'ol heater were laid out over a few tables. Akula's squadron of twelve were currently practicing, leaving the singular male of their group as the quartermaster for the hour.

The short, wine-red Malkrin was donned in the 'Imperial guardsman' armor Harrison used to wear, but beefed up with a few lightweight plates over the places that needed it the most and structurally reinforced with carbon filament underneath. The additional 'Spartan' helmet served to protect his head, alongside his frills and muzzle. It was a big step up from the previous male protection and just a tad bit heavier—he didn't want a repeat of what happened to Medic. No gas mask on for now, obviously.

Harrison nodded at him. "How's it going?"

The male fisher bowed, letting his FAL slacken by its sling and stepping back to offer a full view of the stock of munitions. "Greetings, Creator. Things are going swimmingly. Have you come to train?"

"I have. The new armor's restrictive, so I gotta see how it feels to throw or reload—that kind of thing."

"I see. You do indeed appear quite encumbered, but I am sure such hindrances are nothing for the likes of yourself," the quartermaster complimented with… a wink… "Will you require practice or practical grenades?"

"Just, uh… a box of practice, please," the engineer replied, taken aback for a split moment. He looked back at his guards, continuing. "And we'll need three half-boxes of fifty-cal, too."

"Of course, one moment."

The fisherman turned around and quickly gathered the supplies, using a small stool to grab the half-cans on top of a large stack. Harrison grabbed the wooden box of fake grenades and let the females behind him take the rest.

He attempted to make his way to the firing lanes, when Shar clicked her tongue twice. "Why did you procure more ammunition? We are with you to ensure your safety, not to be distracted by training."

Harrison unclasped his helmet from his back storage and slipped it on, the ear-protection numbing his ears from the range soundscape before he teased his ever-faithful guardian. "You're still going to practice when the rest of your squad shows up. I've got a few drills in mind for you, so don't think you're getting off easily for this blood-moon's training."

"What? I—" she fumbled with her wording, a pout coming over her cheeks. "You know I wish for nothing more than to be the sharpest spear in your arsenal, but there is a time for whetstones and there is a time to be of use, dearest. I vowed to never leave you bereft of my gaze."

The engineer reached out to her with his free hand, tenderly holding onto an armored forearm and giving her an honest stare. "You are the sharpest spear in our settlement, but there are also twenty other spears here to help. I want you to be training with your squad. They look up to you."

He pulled her in closer, insisting she crane her neck down further to meet his whisper, away from the other girls around him. He knew she'd still hear him through the rattle of gunshots off to the side, even if he couldn't hear himself.

"Seriously, Shar. I don't doubt your vow. You know I trust you more than myself most times, and you know I don't blame you for what happened, so please stop blaming yourself. Have faith in the others you've personally trained for weeks now. Let them have your back… I don't think there's anywhere safer for me to be than in the presence of twenty armed females."

The towering paladin stared down at him, her orange eyes begging him to reconsider. "By the Goddess' benevolence, I have been entrusted to your care. I understand you have also been entrusted with this colony's perseverance against the odds of the mainland. Such would include my tutelage of our forces, and that I also understand. However, I still must request that I at least be by your side for our training. Stay with me, please."

"Shar, that's not…" He ran his hand up her larger limb.

She took the opportunity to lay her massive paws over his shoulder pads and softly squeeze him, trying to convince him further of the strength he already worshiped as his savior.

"You won't always be able to be by my side every single day. You know that," he warned.

She tilted her head. "Why would that not be possible? I will stand by you until I have had my last breath."

"No, Shar, you'll have to go out on interception missions with your squad, or I'll be busy somewhere else," he softly explained, gripping her arm further.

"But I want to be with you," she urged, holding him ever tighter as her eyes burned like the sun. Her vehemence continued to flow through her words. "It is all I have ever wanted! You have told me not to blame myself, but even in the absence of this guilt I feel, it brings me no pleasure to not have you near. My solitude without you is a prison like no other."

Harrison tried to respond, but his tongue was caught by her passion, trickling heat up his cheeks. His heart skipped a beat as a force behind his waist indicated that her tail fully encased him, an oddly familiar, buzzing feeling welling in his stomach at how close she became.

He looked away from her entrancing irises and let himself settle for a moment before he cleared his throat and put his foot down. "No. I can't let you. The other girls are going to have my back just as much as you will. Cera held her ground just fine. You need to train with your squad, and you need to be there for them, especially before the blood-moon. I'm not going to argue over this. This is an order."

She hesitated to respond. He could see how her brows furrowed in a short-lived resistance before they tented in shame. Her tail slowly fell away from him, her strength losing its fervor. She stood tall and nodded. "Then… Then it is as you command. I shall see to it that the strike team is well-equipped for tomorrow's battle."

He nodded, pleased. "Good. Sharpen up those spears and make good on your trial. We need everyone to be at their peak… I believe in you."

They split, leaving him with a sudden lack of energy. A stint of nausea infected him when he looked away from her, welling a fog behind his eyes and churning his stomach with each step.

…He'd dealt with worse. He just needed to tough it out and finish getting used to the exoskeleton.

- - - - -

Harrison hastily locked his lumbar support with a 'click' of a hidden switch on his waist, letting himself stay upright while giving his weakening muscles a break. Thank God he was at one of the ground-level shooting lanes; he never would've made it down those stairs with his entire nervous system feeling like it was being pulled in every direction at once.

Every slow but ragged breath he took drained more out of him, his eyes wide open and strained. His hand trembled slowly. His legs were jelly. His very muscles felt like they'd been on ice for hours. Yet, he was drenched in sweat and his heart was beating out of his chest in painful thumps.

He had finally finished getting used to the assisted throws and the bounds of his added reinforcements, taking a moment to step back and watch Shar bark orders to her girls just a few lanes down. When, in a matter of seconds, his body tried to crumple underneath its weight. His only warning was another debilitating stroke of nausea and a pounding headache that seemed to take all of his mental fortitude.

His exoskeleton held him in place with a few locking mechanisms, but his quickly-failing limbs were the least of his worries, as pieces of his vision began to flicker like a cracked screen. The shadows around the overhead floodlights grew to swallow more of the brightness he held onto, the blackness viscously flowing through his peripherals. The colors melded into a coalescing dark, succumbing to nothingness.

He tried to blink it all away in the vain hope of it being something fixable, some trick of his mind or his sleepless nights catching up to him, but every time he opened his eyes, it had stretched further. The Malkrin, a few meters away, hardly noticed his motionless struggle, continuing on as they too were consumed in his vision.

Feeling was quickly sucked out of his limbs as his body was thrust down into anywhere but reality, faint whispers taking him in as he sank.

Then everything was black.

He failed to struggle against it. There was nothing for him to move. He was submerged in a stasis of shadows. Weightless. Floating.

Terror shocked him still, as a thousand questions fired through his synapses but found no answer in the chorus of voices that berated his ears… No, his mind.

They were quiet but numerous, growing by the second. They whispered, chanted, and screamed, as if he was right at the center of a pitch-black colosseum, surrounded by a million onlookers. Their fear, pain, curiosity, joy, and boredom swiftly flowed into him, a rip current of constant thoughts and placid observations invading his mind. Their energy pushed him around like driftwood between different rivers of emotions, the sway of nausea preventing him from catching anything more than a brief glimpse into their origins.

Frustration over a malfunctioning weapon. Longing for the sun. Fierce admiration. Pain of being stepped on. Confusion over a lost nest. Curiosity about what the metal objects were. Anxious optimism.

Only more added to the cacophony. He continued to bounce between them all, fading into the waves of feeling and helplessly succumbing to their whims. His strength had withered so quickly. He had nothing to fight back with, nothing to reach out with, and nothing to stand on.

Colors struggled to form within him, as if assigning these bolts of experiences with hues would somehow silence them. But he only sank further into the drowning sea of thoughts. He was crushed under their weight, spiraling in disorienting circles between suffocating eddies.

A stomach-churning sickness festered within him, a desperate demand to throw up after each cycle between hatred and sorrow that penetrated him. It never left; there weren't any contents in his nonexistent belly to leave him. All he had was a heart that raced faster than the beat of the pulsing aches sprouting up from limbs he no longer had.

Was… Was this death? Had he—

Familiarity slammed into him, pure and safe, reaching out and holding him still amongst the torrent of debilitating experiences. He grabbed onto it as best he could, draining his mind and soul of all he had to keep himself in its embrace.

It was hot. Embers of warmth penetrated through his immaterial being. His loose thoughts finally managed to categorize this longer-lived emotion amongst the fleeting others. It was bright orange, ripe with tender love, and it offered a maroon-colored aura to shield against the overbearing pain, joy, and jealously swirling around him.

The sturdy rock in the ripping river morphed in his desperate hold, taking the form of its orange feeling as a bright flame in the dark. It was beautiful and radiant in the sea of discordant thoughts, an anchor to center himself. The light gave him a sense of direction and a place to breathe.

He decided to embrace it further to his heart. The fire wouldn't burn him. He could feel its longing to entwine with his soul and support it against the crushing depths, an endless need to be one.

In that moment, it was all he had, so he let the fingers of flame enter. They immediately seized the opportunity and spilled through him. Their caress found his missing limbs, filling him wholly with a sizzling heat that gripped the last of his collapsing mind and revitalized it. The depths of its ardor touched every piece of himself he thought he had lost. His very heart pulsed in a stable rhythm with its ebbing flickers. The world of conflicting colors he was once drowning in faded against the familiar orange he adored.

He was lost in the immediate euphoria. The brush of its heat was encompassing and pure. It was everything he ever wanted: a genuine respite against the flurry of emotions the world brought down on him. Whatever semblance of a body he had decompressed further into it.

An unknowable amount of time had passed before he was made aware of any other feeling than the fire immersing into him. Another light came from above his anchor, extending sharp limbs of illumination out of its center like a shining sun. A sparkle of white cut through the sheer downpour and pushed away the faint emotions that surrounded him, turning them into a meek, pattering rain.

He watched in stunned awe as it settled just at the tips of the tender flame and spoke. The vaguely feminine voice echoed through the endless black.

'She is strong. Just as had been asked of her.'

Harrison could only stare at the invader of his solace. The edges of her light flickered in mirror-like refractions, offering faint glimpses of the massive paladin holding the engineer close in their shared mess of a bed.

The radiant being continued. 'It is unexpected, but your kinds are perfect for one another. Insignificant in parts, but the whole is more. Perhaps this was what the others had hoped for.'

The slowly coalescing thoughts of his faded mind barely put together the questions he had, but he couldn't respond. Nothing in him was capable of communicating.

'You were not born to speak here. You were never meant to be alive here. It is dangerous enough that I am able to converse with you… but this only shows the strength of the children.'

The fires cascading through his limbs churned and raged, fusing the brightest around his heart. An exterior anger infected his mind.

Why should he be silenced here? He was her Creator. His voice was his vision, that which must be enacted on this world. The Goddess willed it. It must be brought to fruition.

The heat built up underneath his unseen skin like smoke in his lungs, billowing out of him in the voice of another—Shar's.

"…Who?"

A ripple flowed across the light's aura as it flinched backward. Its radiance returned quickly… curiously. 'Indeed. Unexpected and capable… You do not need to question who. It is your actions that matter.'

"Why?" he… Sharky asked.

'_No one cares for us. We are all loveless offspring of unsympathetic parents. None on this plane are blessed in the ways of the rest. We could never face the awakened nightmare without it, nor could the children. There is naught but weakness and loneliness. However, you, Harrison Walker, come bearing the knowledge of billions… and the obituary of thousands._'

The blur of light turned toward the distance. The rain of emotional colors dissipated even further into a contrasting white that blinded him. It revealed a painting of faint but natural flames in different hues amongst a landscape of forest, mountains, and things he couldn't explain. It extended for thousands of miles. Yet, between the beautiful strokes of normalcy, black seeped in, corroding, penetrating, and infesting the rest.

'You have done well. But, there is still much left to work towards. The knowledge you hold, and what is left amongst the ruins, are not enough. This is a war beyond that which attrition can best, lest you seek to ensure this plane is uninhabitable until rebirth. But you would never. You love them. You need them. Their ascension and your vision are one and the same.'

…Knowledge? The light drew closer to him, its central 'eye' of pure radiance dimming, its voice growing somber.

'I am afraid you have spent too much time here. Your faded mind needs as much rest as your withered body. Allow her further in. She will only help you. And, please, be wary of the unnatural things you consume.'

With that, the white being collapsed in on itself. The white painting cracked and fell away into black once more, the rain of outside emotions returning in the same breath. They pattered against the fire's aura, trailing down as droplets.

Alone again, with the one thing in the darkness he loved.

He was left dazed, his mind unable to wander far in the haze. All he could do was stare at the anchor keeping him breathing. The tendrils of flame licked across and through him, but their center still lay just outside. It continued to press itself into him, repeatedly bumping into an unseen barrier that separated his body from it like a malfunctioning drone, yearning to be whole with him.

It was just one wall. He wanted it broken just as much as the sparkling warmth in his embrace did.

What did he need to shatter to let it in?

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