The team wound their way through the bustling streets of Prokapin, a storm of neon and noise all around them. Towering buildings of glass and chrome loomed overhead. Market stalls spilled over with glowing wares, robotic vendors hawked sizzling foods, and the crowds surged like living rivers.

  Zethraxis stayed close to Aria and Lyra, overwhelmed by the dazzling chaos. Scents mingled in the air—sweet, spicy, metallic—thick with the pulse of the city.

  “All right, priorities,” Lyra said as her eyes scanned the stalls. “Food first, trouble later.”

  She grabbed Zethraxis by the wrist and pulled him toward a narrow alley lined with neon signs in alien scripts. Aria laughed and followed with ease, while Cynos navigated calmly behind them, his blank blue screen-face somehow conveying mild amusement.

  They ducked into a small corner diner wedged between two towering structures. Inside, it was cozy: metal tables, warm lighting, booths packed with travellers and locals. A wall-sized window offered a view of the city’s endless motion.

  They settled into a booth near the back. Zethraxis slid in next to Aria while Lyra sprawled opposite, stretching her arms over the backrest. Cynos remained standing until a mechanical server whirred over and offered him a charging coil.

  “Relax, Cynos. Plug in,” Lyra said with a grin.

  Cynos connected to the port with a soft click and a hum of satisfaction.

  “Today’s special,” the server droned in a flat voice. “Astra Major spice stew with bread coils. Also available: honey-drift tea, vaporfruit fizz, ion-coffee.”

  “Four stews, two honey-drifts, one ion-coffee,” Lyra ordered, flashing a thumb up at Zethraxis. “You’ll like it. Trust me.”

  The server nodded and wheeled away.

  Steam soon rose from bowls of rich, orange-red stew, filling the air with a warm, earthy aroma. Zethraxis watched the others pick up the chunky bread coils and dip them into the broth before trying it himself.

  “First taste of Astra Major,” Aria said with a smile as she dipped her bread. “It’ll ruin you for plain food forever.”

  Zethraxis took a bite. The spices bloomed across his tongue—sweet and savory with a deep heat that settled in his chest.

  “…It’s good,” he said, wide-eyed.

  Lyra nearly spat her drink in laughter. “A full sentence!”

  Aria leaned her elbow on the table, a playful glint in her brown eyes. “You’ll be talking our ears off in no time.”

  Zethraxis ducked his head, his cheeks flushing slightly, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Cynos watched silently, a soft pulse moving across his screen like a content sigh.

  The moment felt warm. Real. For the first time since leaving Elyria, Zethraxis felt… almost at home.

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  The morning light filtered through wide industrial windows, casting golden beams across Cynos’s lab. Sleek metal surfaces gleamed in the soft glow. Tools and mechanical parts lined the walls—some familiar to Zethraxis, others completely alien. Across the room, wires and blinking lights hummed beneath a massive central console.

  Zethraxis stepped inside, breathing in the sharp scent of machine oil, the soft hiss of automated arms at work. Cynos stood at the heart of it all, hunched over glowing schematics. His screen flickered gently, then displayed a simple message: Good Morning.

  “Is this all yours?” Zethraxis asked softly, still in awe.

  “Not all,” Cynos replied, looking up from his work. “Some belongs to the ship. Some, to me.”

  He gestured to rows of parts—some of which Zethraxis recognized from the vessel. A nearby panel buzzed gently, gears visible through its polished surface.

  “Would you like to see how it works?” Cynos asked.

  Zethraxis nodded, eyes wide.

  Cynos led him to a worktable where a robotic arm lay in pieces. Neatly arranged tools sat beside it. He picked up a small wrench and handed it to Zethraxis.

  “This is a basic repair kit. Not like what you’d use back home, but for small tasks like this, it gets the job done.”

  Zethraxis turned the tool in his hand, feeling its weight. His fingers traced the mechanical parts, absorbing the intricate design.

  “Is this what you do… fix things?” he asked.

  “Not just fix,” Cynos said.

  He slid a metal plate into place, connecting wires with swift, practiced movements.

  “I create. This ship, the tools I use, the systems that run this place—everything is designed to serve a purpose.”

  He secured the final piece with a soft click, and the robotic arm stirred, testing its movement.

  “What do you see in this?” Cynos asked.

  Zethraxis watched the arm. Something about the way the pieces came together—how they functioned as one—felt alive, important.

  “The chance to make something better,” he said quietly.

  Cynos studied him. His screen flickered again: You’re learning faster than I thought.

  “Building requires patience and vision,” he said aloud. “But it also requires a willingness to break things apart. To see what they could be—not just what they are.”

  Zethraxis looked down at the tools, then back at Cynos. A small smile touched his lips.

  “I think I understand.”

  Every morning after that, Zethraxis would ask Talia—one of his few new friends in Prokapin—to walk with him to the lab. Though he already knew the way, she assumed the city still overwhelmed him and didn’t question it.

  Talia never minded. She was still waiting for her next mission, her orders buried somewhere in the polished tower where the Masters sat.

  She liked watching Zethraxis struggle and grow. She, too, had been attending Cynos’s lessons.

  Sparks flew in bursts of light across the lab, illuminating the towering frame of the mech under construction. Gleaming alloy, reinforced joints, half-complete plating—its exposed interior pulsed with life.

  Zethraxis stood beside Cynos and Talia, more confident now. Sweat beaded on his brow, a wrench clutched in one hand. He’d shed much of his hesitation over the last few days—every bolt and wire another step forward.

  Lyra leaned casually against a workbench, arms crossed, smirking. Aria sat nearby on a crate, hands on her knees, watching Zethraxis with quiet pride.

  Cynos’s screen flickered and projected a schematic of the mech’s core engine into the air—a swirling matrix of microreactors and stabilizers.

  “This is the heart,” he said. “A synchronized plasma core stabilized by quantum anchors. Without it, the frame collapses under its own weight.”

  Zethraxis leaned in, tracing the glowing image with a breathless awe.

  “I never imagined I’d be part of something like this.”

  “You’re not just a mechanic, Zeth,” Cynos replied, his voice calm but layered with something deeper—something like pride. “You’re the spark that will ignite Astra’s defence.”

  The words hung in the air. Heavy. Hopeful.

  Lyra tossed a rag at him with a grin. “Better get used to the big leagues, kid.”

  “We believe in you,” Aria added, her voice soft and sincere.

  Zethraxis caught the rag awkwardly and let out a laugh—his first true, easy laugh in a long time.

  He looked up at the massive mech towering above them, its hollow eyes staring down like a silent guardian.