The planet Noctis IX spun slowly beneath the blood-red light of a fractured star. Once a thriving industrial colony, it had long since become a graveyard—a world carved open by war and stripped to molten nerves. Cracks ran across its surface like the veins of a dying beast. Glows of magma pulsed from beneath, illuminating the poisoned sky in waves of orange and crimson.
And rising from the tortured crust… stood the Coreforge.
It was not so much a fortress as it was a living wound—towers made of coresteel, skeletal chimneys vomiting steam and plasma, and endless rigs embedded deep into the planet's skin. The air trembled with the power being drained from the world itself.
Deep within its foundations, Riven thrummed to the rhythm of metal and fire.
Inside the vast manufacturing hall, Model Z-series bots were welded into form by titanic arms of steel. Their skeletons were forged under screaming plasma arcs, their minds uploaded through a maze of glowing red tubing—liquid energy flowing like blood into their Phasecores.
> Status: 91% Complete.
Pipes twisted downward, vanishing into the depths below, converging at one forbidden destination.
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The throne room.
Forged from ancient coresteel and scorched black by ages of war, the throne towered above the chamber like a relic of apocalypse. Thick energy conduits fed directly into the back of the seat—twenty-four of them—each pulsing violently with unnatural power.
And upon that throne sat Riven.
His body was an unholy synthesis of war-forged titanium and corrupted energy. Dark vapor rolled from his shoulders like smoke from a forge. His chest glowed—veins of black lightning surrounding the red Eclipse Phasecore embedded where a heart should be. Tubes pierced his back like metallic arteries. His hands rested on the throne's rusted armrests. His presence alone bent the room to silence.
> Designation: Apex-Class Bot.
Core: Eclipse Phasecore.
Rows of dormant bots stood in perfect silence along the walls, like titanic statues awaiting a command. The only sound was the slow, machine-like breath of their master.
Cold. Mechanical. Calculating.
"How long do you… insects need energy?" Riven's voice broke the silence. It came low and slow, more vibration than speech.
One bot stepped forward, cautious.
"Lord Riven," it said, metallic voice reverent. "We are nearing completion. Just under twelve million units remain."
Riven's fingers twitched—just slightly—near the cables connected to his core.
"Good."
He raised his hand. Electricity skated across his wrist.
"Bring me Eliminator."
A massive steel door hissed open.
The one who entered was a monster unto itself—seven feet of sharpened steel, its armor dark red and brutal. Its eyes burned like furnace coals. Its name was known across the war records of two planets: Eliminator.
"Lord Riven," it said, bowing. "You summoned me."
Riven did not look at him—at first. Only after a beat did he turn slightly, his single glowing eye revealing nothing but hunger.
"What news of the… next 'Chosen One'?" he asked. "The one who's supposed to kill me."
Eliminator sank to one knee. "The confirmation came moments ago. He's chosen."
Silence.
Then—
SSHHHHH-CRACK!
Riven's lips curled into a thin, sadistic smile.
"Finally."
With no hesitation, he reached back and ripped the feeding cables from his body. Sparks exploded. Steam burst from the walls. Power surged across the room like a black storm.
The very bots lining the chamber shuddered, a tremor passing through their cores like fear through bone.
Riven stood. The throne groaned behind him.
His body loomed tall and terrible, veins alive with black lightning. His eyes burned as he spoke:
"So… he is chosen. Then it begins."
Eliminator rose.
"Prepare the activation protocols," Riven commanded. "Increase surveillance on the subject. I want everything. No errors. No blind spots."
He turned, and as the light of the room reflected off his cursed Phasecore, it pulsed like something half-alive—an evil heart forged in betrayal.
> Let's see what you can do, he thought, little Savior of humanity.