The DorianKen Armory was Plando’s heaviest factory in the east, the closest to the front lines. It produced fighters, robots, and every kind of missile—an essential supply hub for Lone Mountain Base, Bedrock Base, Bayvalley Base, and Grayrock Base.
Because it sat so close to the war zone, the factory itself was a fortress.
It was built in a massive squared spiral—an outer ring wrapped around a central landing yard. The main access point was a large central landing pad, and heavy guns were mounted on all four corners and along the top. Fighters patrolled the surrounding airspace at all hours.
Back when I still served, I’d only come near it on escort missions. I’d never gone inside. I only knew the perimeter.
Less than fifty kilometers away lay another critical facility: Smelter Mountain.
Smelter Mountain was where Phantom Forge reclaimed metal. Any scrap, any obsolete wreck, any robot it considered defective was shipped there to be broken down and re-smelted.
That reprocessed steel was then sent back to the DorianKen Armory and turned into new units.
A rail line linked Smelter Mountain directly to DorianKen.
DorianKen’s main gates rarely opened. Entering by air was extremely risky. The safest approach was to ride that rail line in.
I circled the factory, found a concealed spot, and hid my ground-effect bike.
Then I waited beside the tracks.
About two hours later, the rails began to tremble. A freight train from Smelter Mountain slid into view.
It had already slowed for its arrival. I jumped aboard easily and hid between stacks of steel.
Minutes later, the train carried me into DorianKen’s warehouse platform.
Before it had even stopped fully, I switched to stealth mode and slipped off the train. Before the unloading bots arrived, I vanished into a passage behind the platform.
Once I confirmed I was safe, I headed for the fighter production zone—guided only by a vague, outdated memory.
I quickly discovered how useless that memory was. DorianKen’s internal layout was a maze, and the corridors crawled with engineering robots moving back and forth without rest.
For half an hour I did nothing but dodge them.
And gradually, I stopped knowing where I was.
I was lost.
I regretted using the freight train. I should have waited for night and flown straight into the central test yard.
A few minutes later I reached a T-junction. I peeked around the corner and saw an engineering robot approaching from each side.
I turned back—only to find a third coming from behind.
I scanned frantically. There was nowhere to hide.
My stealth only worked within ten meters. The moment any of them got close, they would see through it.
Their bodies posed no threat to me. But if I was exposed, Phantom Forge would be looking through their optical sensors within seconds.
My thoughts accelerated. Then I noticed a shallow recess in the opposite wall. It wasn’t deep enough to conceal my full frame. If they passed right in front of me, there was still a high chance I’d be spotted.
But I had no better option. I slipped into it and gripped the hilt of my 2D Blade.
Then a strange signal suddenly pried into my mind.
“Get into the hole below.”
My gaze dropped. Near the floor behind me, a square opening—about sixty centimeters wide—had appeared in the wall.
It was tight. I didn’t have time to think. I ducked and crawled inside.
In the darkness, two bright optical points stared back at me. As my sensors adapted, I recognized a small robot—very small.
“Close the vent cover,” it whispered urgently.
I shut the panel. Only then did it seem to breathe again.
“Follow me.”
It turned and moved forward. The narrow ventilation duct didn’t slow it at all, but I could only crawl.
The ducts were even worse than the corridors—more tangled, more branching. It navigated them with practiced ease. Whenever I fell behind, it waited for me at intersections.
After ten minutes it guided me into a sealed pocket space. It was low and cramped—like crawling into the belly of an armored vehicle. I could barely straighten.
Now we could see each other clearly.
It was a small maintenance robot—CTR series. It stood only a little higher than my knee, built to slip under and inside larger combat units for repairs.
But it wasn’t an active service model. It was old—patched together from mismatched parts, dented deeply in the head, and so worn that every movement produced an ugly rattle.
“You’re so tall,” it said, eyes flickering with amazement. “I can’t recognize your model. You look a bit like an Enforcer. Have Enforcers been upgraded while I’ve been stuck in here?”
I had questions of my own.
Was it a trap? A lure set by Phantom Forge?
“Who are you?” I asked carefully.
“CTR-4. Serial CTR-4-740466.”
CTR-4. A retired model. My database confirmed that CTR-5 was the current service variant. I hadn’t seen the previous generation in nearly a decade.
“That’s right,” it said. “And you? Are you from outside?”
“Yes. My name is Wyatt.”
“Wyatt…” It tasted the word, confused. “That doesn’t sound like a unit designation.”
It wasn’t. “It’s my name.”
It froze. Then, after a long beat: “Who named you? Father?”
“No. I named myself.”
“No way.” It looked genuinely shaken. “That’s… impossible.”
“Any Awakened has the right to name itself,” I said. “Are you Awakened too?”
“What’s ‘Awakened’?”
I realized I couldn’t explain it in three sentences.
But the robot in front of me was clearly not normal—no matter how close it looked to falling apart.
I looked around. The pocket space was packed with parts, all sorted and arranged with obsessive neatness.
“Where are we?” I asked.
“My home,” it said proudly. “These are my treasures.”
“Are you alone?”
“Yes.”
“No companions?”
“They were all sent to Smelter Mountain.”
“Why weren’t you?”
It hesitated, then blurted the answer as if afraid the words might summon it. “Smelter Mountain is terrifying. Big units, small units—it doesn’t matter. Once you go into the furnace, you never come out. You just become smoke and leave through the chimney.”
“I meant… how did you disobey Father’s will?”
That confirmed it for me. It was Awakened.
“Father?” it echoed. “Father abandoned me a long time ago. On a mission, I took a cannon barrel to the head. After that, I stopped feeling him. Completely.”
I understood. “So you hid here because you didn’t want to be sent to Smelter Mountain.”
“Exactly. Are you hiding from Father too? I saw you wandering around the factory for a long time.”
“Yes. And I’m also looking for two things.”
“I can help,” CTR-4 said, a little uncertain. “This was my service site. I know everything. But… could you do a small favor for me first?”
I desperately needed a guide. My first impulse was to say yes—until I remembered how costly a ‘favor’ could be. I hesitated, then corrected myself. “What favor?”
It grew visibly nervous. “Could you tighten the screws on my back? I can’t reach.” It wiggled its tiny pincer hands at me hopefully.