The training chamber's crystalline light slowly dimmed, transitioning from the high-intensity amber of active combat to a cooling, twilight blue.
Zander completed his final harmonic cycle, exhaling a long, controlled breath that seemed to vibrate in the quiet air. His skin was still tingling, a pleasant, electric prickling sensation running across his nerves—the residual conductivity from Arkeon's intensive frequency exercises. He felt tuned. Like a wire pulled taut and humming with potential.
Aethros, however, was not "tuned." He was sulking.
The massive beast was sitting off to the side on a slab of cold obsidian, arms crossed over his chest, his long, scaled tail flicking back and forth with the steady, metronomic rhythm of a ticking bomb. His ears were pinned flat against his skull in a display of theatrical, majestic irritation.
"Well," he said loudly, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceiling, "what about me?"
Zander blinked, pulling himself out of his meditative state. He looked over at his companion. "What?"
Aethros rose to his full height, his shadow stretching long across the floor. He rolled his massive shoulders with exaggerated impatience, his claws clicking against the stone.
"I'm sitting here watching my friend get an entire ancient training system," Aethros listed, counting off on his claws. "You get exotic harmonic routines. You get a universal knowledge imprint that technically makes you a genius. You get a shiny, omniscient AI guide floating around your head..."
He pointed a sharp, accusing claw at the blue light of Arkeon's core crystal.
"…and I get nothing? Not even a manual? A relic? A snack? I'm the muscle here, in case anyone forgot."
Arkeon's core lights pulsed in a rapid, cool silver pattern—the AI's digital approximation of a chuckle.
"Companion Aethros," Arkeon said, his voice smooth and amused. "Your complaint is statistically predictable. It is also… entirely justified."
Aethros puffed his chest out triumphantly, looking at Zander. "See? Even the ancient computer agrees with me."
Zander sighed, wiping sweat from his forehead. "I wasn't keeping anything from you, Aethros. We just opened the place an hour ago."
Arkeon floated forward, the wall crystal projecting complex lattices of blue geometric light that scanned the feline hybrid from head to tail.
"Per Ashurim protocol, the primary bearer—Zander—was required to authenticate and receive the knowledge matrix first. The hierarchy is absolute. However," Arkeon paused, the light shifting, "the Ashurim were warriors as well as scholars. They understood that a Master never fights alone. They designed specialized tools for companions, bonded guardians, and multi-species allies."
Aethros' vertical pupils widened, his irritation vanishing instantly.
"Tools… like what kind? Weapons?"
The blue projection shifted. It swirled and reshaped, dissolving the scan of Aethros and building a new image in the air. It formed a deep, lustrous violet construct—curved, organic, and metallic. It didn't look like a machine; it looked like biology forged in a foundry. It formed heavy, interlocking plates that resembled the ribbed exoskeletons of ancient, predatory megafauna.
"This," Arkeon said, the hologram rotating slowly, "is the Harmonic Mantle."
Aethros' ears perked up so high they almost touched. "Mantle?"
"A living armor," Arkeon continued. "Grown from Ashurim nanopolymer tissues and memory-alloy. It is not worn; it is hosted. It resonates with its bearer's physiology, integrating beneath the skin and forming protective plating on command."
Zander stared at the floating image, analyzing the tech. "Wait—beneath the skin? Like a sub-dermal implant?"
Aethros grinned, his rows of needle-teeth glinting in the blue light. "I like this already."
Arkeon pulsed in affirmation.
The Armor Revealed
The projection expanded, exploding the view to highlight different sections of the armor.
"The Ashurim designed this specific variant for quadrupedal and hybrid combatants. It is lightweight, yet the molecular density allows it to withstand high-thermal flux, direct plasma scoring, and blunt kinetic trauma that would pulverize standard durasteel."
Aethros flexed his arms, already imagining the weight of it. "Go on."
"Its primary function," Arkeon said, highlighting the chest and shoulder plates, "is Harmonic Reflection."
Zander raised an eyebrow. "Reflection?"
Aethros froze, sensing the potential. "Meaning?"
"It captures the vibrational signature of an incoming strike," Arkeon explained. "When kinetic energy hits the plating, the nanopolymers do not merely absorb it. They trap it. They store the impact briefly within a harmonic buffer… and then return a portion of that kinetic and harmonic energy outward."
Aethros' jaw dropped. He looked at Zander, then back at the hologram.
"It punches back?"
"Precisely," Arkeon said. "A resonant counterforce. It turns defense into offense. The stronger the blow against you, the stronger the rebound shockwave."
Aethros made a low, delighted, vibrating growl deep in his chest. It was the sound of a predator who had just been handed the keys to the universe.
"Arkeon… I love you."
Arkeon's light dimmed slightly, turning a soft pinkish-hue. "Affection noted. And reciprocated, Companion."
Aethros stepped forward eagerly, shedding his usual caution. "Alright, mantle me. Let's do this."
Zander coughed, stepping closer. "Are we sure about this? 'Living armor' sounds invasive. Maybe we should run a compatibility scan first, or—"
But Aethros was already standing tall, arms extended outward, his massive chest exposed. "Too late. I'm ready."
Arkeon's drone expanded into a ring of violet hard-light, lowering slowly from the ceiling around Aethros' body. The crystalline walls of the chamber hummed, a deep, resonant chord that vibrated in Zander's teeth.
The Mantle responded.
From the ring of light, thin tendrils of silvery-violet nanopolymer descended. They looked like liquid metal, moving with a serpentine intelligence. They swirled around Aethros's fur, seeking contact.
Then, they touched him.
Zander watched, fascinated and horrified, as the liquid metal didn't sit on the fur—it sank through it. It vanished into Aethros's skin like evaporating mist.
Aethros gasped—a sharp intake of air, his eyes flying wide. It wasn't pain; it was the shock of intrusion.
"It's… inside," Aethros whispered, his voice tight.
His muscles rippled violently under the surface of his skin. Zander could see the movement—like serpents coiling beneath the hide—as the armor embedded itself deep, seeking the gaps between muscle layers, wrapping along his spine, weaving a protective web over his chest and belly.
Aethros shuddered, his claws digging into the floor. Then, he exhaled sharply, his posture relaxing.
"It's… warm," he murmured, surprised. "It feels like… a second pulse."
Arkeon nodded. "It is harmonizing with your internal frequency. Yours is… quite intense. Primal. The Mantle is feeding off that heat."
Aethros smirked proudly, rolling his shoulders. "Naturally."
Aethros lifted a hand, staring at his own palm. The skin looked normal, but there was a faint, violet sheen to his veins.
"How do I turn it on?"
"Focus," Arkeon instructed. "Visualize the protection. And speak the Ashurim activation phrase: Aseran Threl."
Aethros didn't hesitate. He clenched his fists, threw his head back, and roared the words.
"ASERAN THREL!"
The reaction was instantaneous.
His body ignited in a bloom of vibrating, violet light.
With a sound like a thousand resonant chimes striking at once, the Ashurim armor materialized from beneath his skin. It didn't grow slowly; it snapped into place. Plates of dark, violet-black metal slid outward, interlocking with fluid, mechanical precision.
His head became encased in a feline helm—sleek, angular, with luminous crest-lines that traced the shape of his skull. His chest and belly were suddenly covered in layered, heavy plates that overlapped like obsidian scales. Glowing harmonic runes ignited along his ribs, pulsing with power.
Zander's jaw dropped.
Aethros no longer looked like a beast. He looked like a mythic predator forged in the heart of a dying star. He was a war-machine of biology and metal.
He flexed his arms—and a visible shockwave cracked the air around him.
"OH," Aethros rumbled, his voice deepening, amplified by the helm. "This is GOOD."
Arkeon drifted back, lights flashing rapidly. "Your harmonic output exceeds projections by 17%. Remarkable compatibility."
Zander laughed, shaking his head. "Great. You're going to be unbearable now."
Aethros posed, turning to catch his reflection in the polished wall. He looked like a warrior statue come to life.
"I have no idea what you mean. I am merely appropriately dressed for the occasion."
Aethros turned toward a calcified training pillar across the chamber. He didn't wind up; he just snapped a jab at the empty air in its direction.
"Let's see the kick."
He punched.
Light exploded from his knuckles. It wasn't just force; it was a cone of resonant distortion. The air warped. The energy struck the pillar five meters away.
CRACK-BOOM.
The stone pillar didn't just break; it shattered. Dust and gravel rained down on the floor.
Aethros stared at his own hand, then at the pile of rubble.
"…Did I do that?"
"Indeed," Arkeon replied. "The mantle sensed the intent, drew from the ambient vibration of your movement, amplified it through harmonic reflection, and projected it. And that was merely a partial activation."
Aethros made a delighted sound that was half-roar, half-laugh, the sound vibrating through his armor.
Arkeon rotated to face both of them, the light in the room rising again.
"Now that both primary and companion systems are active… the preliminary phase is concluded. True training can begin at full capacity."
Zander nodded, wiping the last of the sweat from his face. He felt the anticipation rising, a hunger to test his new limits against Aethros's new power.
Aethros stood tall, his new mantle shimmering with violet potential.
"Months of intensive harmonics," Arkeon listed. "Combat conditioning. Coordinated tactical applications. You must learn to fight as one unit, blending the Force Echo with the Primal Mantle."
A pause.
"We begin at dawn."
Aethros cracked his armored neck, the sound like a gunshot. "Dawn? Why not now? I'm ready to break something else."
Arkeon pulsed a soft, calming blue. "Because you are both exhausted. Your biological metrics indicate you need caloric intake and sleep cycle restoration."
Zander, suddenly feeling the weight of the day, collapsed onto a crystalline bench. "He's right, Aethros. I can barely lift my arms."
Aethros hesitated. He looked at the shattered pillar, then at Zander. He nodded reluctantly. The violet light faded, and the armor retracted smoothly back beneath his skin, leaving only the faint shimmer.
"Fine. Dawn."
But even as the training chamber dimmed for the night cycle, Aethros couldn't help himself. He whispered the phrase—"Aseran Threl"—one more time, flashing the helmet into existence for just a second, just to admire the glow in the dark.
Zander grinned at the sound of harmonic chimes filling the room.
Tomorrow… the real work would begin.