Kaelen didn't steal Dax's kill. Not directly, at least. Instead, he executed a calculated maneuver, a strategic feint designed to achieve a far greater goal. He let the Silver Talon pilot, blinded by pride and the lure of a Tier 2 bounty, chase the Skitterer deeper into the labyrinthine tunnels of Sector 7. And then, when Dax was sufficiently distracted, he steered the newly-stabilized Iron Cradle toward the abandoned administrative section, a forgotten corner of the sector that held secrets worth more than any monster's hoard.
His first upgrade had been a revelation, a monumental leap forward in his quest to transform the Iron Cradle. The smooth, aggressive thrum of the Scrapper I was more reassuring than any official Dominion decree, a tangible sign of his progress. But he was still operating in the dark, relying on the System's cryptic pronouncements and his own limited understanding of mecha technology. The System called the Frame Unique, a Tier 0.01 blank slate. This wasn't standard Dominion terminology. It implied something far more significant, something hidden from the masses.
He needed answers. He needed information. He needed to understand the true nature of the Iron Cradle.
He parked the Iron Cradle inside a forgotten vehicle bay, a rusting hulk of a structure that had long been abandoned. He used the Iron Cradle's magnetic lock to seal the door, creating a temporary sanctuary from the prying eyes of the Dominion.
Inside the cockpit, Kaelen opened the Nexus System interface, the holographic screen illuminating the cramped space. He navigated to the Frame Data log, his fingers flying across the virtual keys.
[MECHA: IRON CRADLE (Unique)]
TIER: 0.01
BASE DESIGNATION: UNAVAILABLE
CURRENT UPGRADES: 1 (Scrapper I)
WARNING: BASE FRAME INCOMPLETE. 99% OF ORIGINAL ARCHITECTURE MISSING.
RECOMMENDATION: SEEK ARCHIVAL DATA TO ESTABLISH BASELINE.
99% missing. The number was staggering, almost incomprehensible. It explained the scrap-heap aesthetic, the patchwork construction, the pervasive sense of incompleteness that permeated the Iron Cradle. His mecha wasn't just weak; it was a fragmented relic of something vast and unknown, a mere shadow of its former self.
He needed official data, schematics, historical records. The System was powerful, but it couldn't provide context, it couldn't fill in the gaps in his knowledge. Luckily, the Dominion, despite its technological advancements, still relied heavily on physical archives, vast repositories of information stored outside the electronic network, immune to hacking and digital tampering.
He located the access panel for Sector 7's defunct research center, a place rumored to be sealed off after a mysterious incident decades ago. The panel was rusted shut, the security mechanisms long since decayed. Using the Iron Cradle's surprisingly strong arm, now augmented by the Scrapper I, he wrenched the hinges, tearing the panel from its frame with a screech of protesting metal. He squeezed the Iron Cradle through the opening, forcing his way inside.
The center was cold and silent, a mausoleum of forgotten knowledge. Rows of antiquated data banks lined the walls, covered in a fine layer of dust that obscured the faded labels. The air was thick with the smell of decay, a musty odor that spoke of neglect and abandonment. Kaelen climbed out of his mecha, leaving his bulky Frame behind in the cramped entrance, and approached the central terminal. The keyboard was ancient, the keys worn smooth by countless hands. He bypassed the rusted keyboard entirely, instead plugging his System directly into the terminal's data port, a risky maneuver that could potentially expose his secret.
[NEXUS SYSTEM: ACCESSING ARCHIVE CORE.]
The screens flickered to life, displaying a jumbled mess of code and text. Then, slowly, order emerged, as the System established a connection and began to parse the data. The terminal displayed millennia of Dominion history, engineering logs, and mecha schematics, a vast ocean of information that threatened to overwhelm him.
Kaelen focused his search, carefully inputting the parameters. First, he tried "Tier 0.01" and "Unique." Zero results. The terms were meaningless within the Dominion's established framework.
Then, he took a leap of faith, inputting the Iron Cradle's internal chassis designation, a series of non-standard characters he'd glimpsed in the System's raw data, a string of letters and numbers that seemed to vibrate with hidden power.
The terminal whirred, its ancient mechanisms groaning under the strain. The screens flickered erratically, then stabilized, displaying a single, massive file.
[FILE FOUND: DESIGNATION: A.X.E.L. — PROJECT TITAN-FALL]
ACCESS LEVEL: OMEGA (RESTRICTED)
Kaelen's heart leaped into his throat. He braced himself, a sense of foreboding settling over him. The System was already a massive secret, a dangerous anomaly. The mecha's origins, it seemed, were even more perilous, shrouded in layers of secrecy and forbidden knowledge. He initiated the download, knowing that he was crossing a line from which there was no turning back.
The schematic that populated his System screen was staggering, breathtaking in its scale and complexity. It wasn't just a mecha; it was a mobile fortress, a self-sustaining war machine capable of withstanding unimaginable punishment. The A.X.E.L. was depicted as a colossal, self-repairing battle chassis, standing hundreds of feet tall, bristling with weapons and advanced technology. It was designed to carry a power core capable of wiping continents clean, a force of destruction that dwarfed anything the Dominion currently possessed.
And in the lower corner of the blueprint, almost hidden from view, there was a tiny, faded image labeled: Control Core Unit – Sub-designation: Cradle Frame.
The Iron Cradle wasn't a separate mecha, a lowly Tier 1 unit destined for the scrap heap. It was the cockpit and central control unit of the ancient, legendary Project Titan-Fall, the most powerful Frame ever theorized by the Dominion, believed to have been lost millennia ago, destroyed in a cataclysmic event that had reshaped the face of the world.
He realized the full implication with a dizzying rush. He hadn't just reincarnated into a mecha world; he'd been reborn as the pilot of a lost superpower, a forgotten weapon of unimaginable power. But he only possessed the central brain, the core consciousness. The rest of the colossal Titan Frame was missing, scattered across the ruins of a shattered world.
The System overlaid his tiny mecha with the ghost outline of the Titan, a stark visual representation of the gulf between what he was and what he could become.
[A.X.E.L. / IRON CRADLE (Unique)]
BASE FRAME GOAL: REASSEMBLY
REQUIRED MATERIALS (Phase 1: Basic Mobility):
Primary Titan Actuator: 1x (Rare)
Reinforced Steel Plates: 500x (Uncommon)
Tier 3 Power Core Fragment: 1x (Epic)
...and 99 other items.
The list was impossibly long, the materials staggeringly rare, almost mythical in their scarcity. His current stock of Iron Filings felt like dust, a pathetic offering to the gods of war.
But the System offered a glimmer of hope, a crucial, new function that activated automatically once the baseline was known: [BLUEPRINT TRACKING: ACTIVE]. The System would now indicate the general location and type of monster that held the components needed for the reconstruction, guiding him on his impossible quest.
Kaelen quickly disconnected the System from the terminal, erasing the traces of his search, severing the link to the forbidden knowledge. He knew he was a marked man, a target for forces he couldn't even comprehend. He knew exactly what he was piloting now: a potential god of war, currently disguised as a rusty tricycle.
The door behind him clanged open, the sound echoing through the silent research center, shattering the illusion of safety.
Dax stood there, silhouetted against the flickering light of the tunnel, his Silver Talon heavily damaged, its laser cannons cracked and its plating scored by the Tier 2 Skitterer. He was enraged, wounded, and dripping oil, a wounded predator seeking revenge.
"You left me to finish that job, maintenance boy," Dax growled, the hostility thick in his synthetic voice, the words dripping with venom. "I saw your tracks turn off here. What were you doing? Hiding?"
Kaelen didn't move, his face impassive, his eyes cold and calculating. He looked from the pitiful state of the Silver Talon to the impossible schematics of the Titan-Fall that flashed in his mind, a universe of power and potential.
"Just a bit of recalibration," Kaelen said, his voice now entirely calm, completely devoid of the fear he'd felt moments ago. The knowledge of the A.X.E.L. had transformed him, imbued him with a quiet confidence that bordered on arrogance. "You look like you need some repairs, Dax. Maybe I should check your hull for Rusted Actuators."
Dax lifted his remaining working cannon, the implied threat immediate, the red targeting laser painting a burning circle on Kaelen's chest. "I will report you for insubordination, Kaelen. Your Frame is scrap. Mine is operational. Know your place."
Kaelen simply climbed back into the Iron Cradle, the seat molding to his form, the controls familiar beneath his hands. His gaze was fixed on the BLUEPRINT TRACKING indicator, a faint, pulsing light that beckoned him toward a new, distant sector, a place where the Rare materials truly lay, a place where the legend of the Titan-Fall would be reborn.
"My place," Kaelen said, powering up his Scrapper I until it vibrated with restrained power, the low thrum echoing through the research center, a defiant roar in the face of the Dominion. "My place is getting an upgrade."