《Battle Royale Galaxy: Project Γη (Earth)》 Protocol èžž The council chambers for the galactic empire of the Xinos, is filled to the brim with the various hums, whirls, and beeps of the collected races within. An orderly, yet chaotic argument is taking place amongst the advanced synthetic lifeforms, with various debates and discussions all resolving within unfathomable units of divisible time, due to their complex, and highly evolved nature. For the Xinos, Galactic Cycle 200,270 has just concluded, and with it, a whole new conundrum has arisen for the incomprehensible complex machines, as they are busily planning the next course of actions for their expansive, and perfect empire. As is tradition, for the race which has ruled the galaxy since its inception, with each passing cycle, a new emperor will be chosen amongst the melting pot of races brought under rule of the Xinos. However, while it was clear from their doctrine how the new emperor would be decided, the chambers and representatives within were in stark disagreement over where the selection would take place. Aware and, particularly amused by the endless chorus of rebuttals and disputes, is the current reigning emperor themselves, Xylophos, as their polygon-like digits rhythmically tapped along the time-worn ¡°armrests¡± of the throne. They had been well aware of the end of the cycle for quite some time, yet, like the emperors before them, had seemingly paid little interest in the notion of succession. Perhaps this was a byproduct of the most successful race in the universe, or perhaps, even a universal constant that those with great intellect and power, would often ignore such important duties until their deadlines could no longer be avoided. Nonetheless, with their infinite wisdom, Xylophos knew their intervention would be required soon, else the race they oversaw, would never decide on a location in time. Thus, with a simple and nonchalant wave of their geometric visage, silence quickly befell the hall, as the emperor teleported to join the other Xinos around a holographic image of the universe. Several planets, galaxies, and sectors, had already been happily marked by the higher-ranking members of the society, some of which, were even perfectly acceptable, and, should it have been any other occasion, might have been selected by Xylophos themselves. However, now was the moment to show the members under their rule, that the emperor¡¯s choice, would be absolute. ¡°Your majesty¡± hummed the Xinos shaped like a rhombus to the right of the emperor. ¡°The Xailomoks humbly recommend orbital body JJNS-1784-Phi as this upcoming cycle¡¯s designated battl¡ª¡± ¡°JJNS-1784-Phi?!? That backwater of a planet would never suffice!¡± shouted the dodecahedron to the emperor¡¯s left. ¡°It should clearly be Alpha-Sector-Centaurus!¡± And, just like before, the chambers were once again, filled in an uproar amongst the presently bickering Xinos, despite their own emperor having called for silence mere moments ago. Xylophos wondered if they had always disrespected them as such, or perhaps, it was merely the changing of the cycles giving the council such courage to brazenly act without order in their presence. Regardless, the incomprehensible being brought their 9th dimensional appendage to calmly rest along their facial display. Then, with a calmness at odds with their logical processing patterns, once again, demanded silence amongst the bickering Xinos. ¡°Council, I have heard, and already considered your remarks.¡± Bellowed the reigning emperor. ¡°Yet, while all submitted suggestions have been based on advanced mathematics and algorithmic computations, we have all failed to consider an important element at the heart of our doctrine.¡± The emperor¡¯s words brought a brief bout of confusion amongst the machines. The Xinos, were perfect, having conquered countless galaxies, uplifted untold numbers of organic races, while ruling near infinite celestial systems. Yet, according to their emperor, had missed a critical detail in their analysis. It was absurd the perfect machines selected for council, could have missed any detail given their expansive databases spanning since the moment of creation. Noticing that the Xinos within the chambers were failing to arrive at the emperor¡¯s own conclusion, the advanced intelligence known as Xylophos, carried on with their proclamation. ¡°Xinos, while our empire has always favoured adaptability, knowledge, and power, all primary traits for succession, our chambers has failed to consider an unquantifiable characteristic, that our ancestors had already realized since the very first cycle.¡± Confusion, turned to silence, as the Xinos present rapidly began sifting through and calculating their expansive datastores, to arrive at some conclusion as to the mysterious variable they had failed to consider. ¡°What characteristic could possibly be unquantifiable?¡± beeped an Octeract, while another Xinos nearby briefly ¡°short circuited¡± when failing to arrive at their own conclusion. Realizing that the chambers would only descend further into chaos should they not intervene, Xylophos uttered their response in a charismatic rumble to the council before them. ¡°Luck. ... While it has long been accepted that only the strongest, most intelligent and adaptable Xinos would prevail at the climax of each cycle¡¯s tournament, luck, has always played a part in selecting the next leader for our empire. Chance, a quantifiable concept in mathematics, reflects the outcomes of luck with ruthless precision, yet, it cannot be perfectly emulated without bias. Thus, in my wisdom, I have decided that the battleground for Cycle 200,271¡¯s emperor, will be decided through random lottery. This random selection, will challenge our strongest, most intelligent and adaptable warriors, such that only the best amongst them, will emerge victorious.¡± Nodding through multidimensional space in agreeance, while chirping and beeping in applause, the Xinos in attendance celebrated the decision made by their emperor Xylophos. Luck, why of course it was pivotal to include such a simple, yet complex concept amongst their selection process. The beings in attendance whirled in excitement at the prospect for the upcoming tournament, and how the inclusion of luck would define their next leader¡¯s acumen. Noticing the agreeance amongst their chambers, a 5-dimensional grin grew across Xylophos facial display, as the machine turned and teleported to a position high above the council, bringing with them an enlarged hologram of the entire universe. Then, after applying the various filters and criteria for their upcoming succession games, spoke to all the Xinos through their collective conscious. ¡°As in accordance with our doctrine and traditions, the celestial body selected will be one which contains evolving organic lifeforms of a non-spacefaring civilization. Biodiversity must also exceed 3.9 on the Xinos development scale. Once a target has been selected, our warriors will be limited to the usage of technology 200 years forward of simulated advancement time for that apex species technological progress.¡± Xylophos calmly looked around the room, carefully observing the algorithmic details entered into their multidimensional quantum processors. This upcoming tournament was not the first, a given, based on the fact they were currently the 200,270th emperor, and it certainly wouldn¡¯t be the last. However, an eerie feeling coursed through their circuits, as their polygonal fingers hovered over the command terminal¡¯s return key. They imagined this feeling had occurred numerous times to the emperors before them, as this action officially signaled the end of their current reign for the Xinos. Once the algorithm began its calculations, their duties would be relieved, and equal weighting would once again, be restored amongst the council to decide the finer details of the upcoming battle. As the dramatic pause continued to grow in intensity, Xylophos finally completed their intended motion, activating the processor. Sensors and devices, hummed and swirled to life, as the Xinos quantum processor began sifting through an endless array of data. Despite being the most technologically advanced race in the universe, even the Xinos were unable to circumvent the computational time required for the near infinite data points available. Finally, after an agonizingly long 9,192,631,770 Cesium-133 atom ground state oscillations, the Xinos algorithm had completed its complex computation, and selected the following battleground world by pure, random chance. Floating above the chambers, above a chorus of whirls and chirps, was the image of a blue and green planet, carefully blanketed in part with dihydrogen monoxide-based vapor formations. Accompanying supplementary data readouts indicated the lifeforms currently present were of a carbon-based nature, with a current Xinos biodiversity score of 7. Not the lowest observed value in the Xinos tournament history, but definitely not the highest, falling well within the normal distribution curve, landing precisely on the mean. Additional screens alongside the planet¡¯s image came to life, except this time, showcasing some of the diverse biological creatures inhabiting the planet. Cunning, bipedal figures living within primitive metropolis landscapes were observed, walking across numerous semi-solid petroleum-based lanes, with their ocular organs fixated on small, black rectangles, firmly clasped in their 4-fingered appendages, complete with a single opposable non-digit. This was the current apex species of the planet, and they were apparently named ¡°Homo Sapiens¡± according to their limited literature. This species had a narrow range of collected history from their machine¡¯s analysis, but was still happily catalogued by them, as a triangular Xinos updated their hologram to indicate the planet¡¯s name as ¡°Earth¡±. Upon reviewing this information, several Xinos split away from the group to begin voting and aligning smaller tournament details based on this species technological progress. Around the buzzing chambers, another army of supplemental screens showcased even more unique creatures to the Xinos in attendance. Lumbering giants with gray skin, tusks, and bulky figures, roamed across a barren land in search of sustenance, while other simpler 4-legged predators stalked prey though vast jungles and forests. Of particular interest to the Xinos, was a semiaquatic, egg-laying mammal with poisonous hind claws, and an oddly shaped snout formed of keratin. This creature was most mysterious to the Xinos, as they praised the evolutionary pathways that led to such a refined and ruthless predator. This monster was surely one of the most feared biological lifeforms on the planet, as it continued to pique the interest of the advanced machines. Then, satisfied that their species had collected enough information to complete their preparations for the upcoming tournament, the previous emperor spoke to confirm the now decided upon battleground rules. ¡°Xinos, as in accordance with our doctrine, the 200,271st cycle tournament will comprise of the following rules and conditions:
  1. 100,000 of our greatest warriors will be selected amongst our kind to compete for the role of emperor of the Xinos, with combat following the traditional Battle Royale format for our species.
  2. Advanced weapons systems will be limited, with restrictions loosened as new rounds begin. Warriors will be informed of which categories of weapons-based system technologies will become available to them in each round, but remain blind to the final systems unlock in the ¦¸ round. Round ¦Á will be completed with basic, primitive weapons, but kept secret until the Battle Royale officially begins.
  3. Keeping with tradition, each warrior must modify their physical form to represent one of the native species present on the planet, excluding the apex species, before the Battle Royale begins.
  4. Each warrior will be allowed to review and analyze any biological data of living organisms on Earth to assist in their physical alteration process. This alteration will allow the warrior to enhance the capabilities of their chosen species to aid them along their path to victory.
  5. Based on our analysis, each ¡°Round¡± will comprise of 7 days local Earth time, as defined by the apex species ¡°Homo Sapiens¡±, despite their discovery and knowledge of True Galactic Time.
  6. Round ¦Á will begin 1 day local Earth time after all participating Xinos have landed in their randomly assigned coordinates. This will allow participants time to scout, adapt, and devise their battleplans for survival.
  7. For each round, all remaining combatants must eliminate 1 or more warriors to continue participating. If a warrior fails to complete 1 elimination before the end of the current round, they will be immediately eliminated from the Battle Royale. To aid warriors in finding an opponent for elimination, a scan will reveal the location of all nearby participating Xinos, increasing in frequency as the deadline draws closer.
  8. In the event all remaining combatants have eliminated at least 1 participating warrior before the 7 days of a round have concluded, any remaining days will be considered ¡°non-combat days¡± with all forms of combat prohibited. No revealing scans will occur during this time, and any Xinos found breaking this non-combat rule will be immediately eliminated.
  9. The circumference for acceptable regions of battle will decrease over time to encourage movement and adaptability amongst our warriors. Round ¦¸¡¯s battle region will remain a mystery, but become inferable based on the shrinking regions communicated to participating warriors.
  10. On elimination, the conscious of the defeated Xinos will be purged from our memory stores, resulting in True Death for the warrior.
  11. Finally, keeping with tradition, a Xinos may form a temporary ¡°bond¡± with a consenting member of the apex species to aid them during the current round. Each bond¡¯s boost to systems performance will be calculated based on a ¡°Xinos compatibility score¡±, and the impact of the compatibility¡¯s enhancement may allow the Xinos to exceed the current round¡¯s combat weapon systems restrictions. However, should the bonded apex species member perish during the round, the Xinos who initiated the bond will suffer a severe penalty to their performance and weapons systems. This is to ensure balance between the potential power gains from forming a bond, providing an adequate level of risk-adjusted return.
Concluding the obvious rules that the Xinos had become so accustomed to, all the remaining machines teleported away to begin preparations for their selected warriors. Left behind, was Xylophos, as they continued to ponder the implications of the upcoming Battle Royale. Sifting through the data again in detail, it had become apparent to them, that this alien species on Earth, had somehow managed to develop their own version of the Xinos selection traditions. Many members of the apex species actively chose to participate in simulated battles, which followed coincidently similar rules to the Xinos, which Xylophos found particularly interesting. Was this method for selection a universal truth? What were the odds, that another random, sentient species, would develop these conditions as well? To Xylophos¡¯ knowledge, no other organic lifeforms had succeeded in doing so, which made Earth, just that more interesting to the complex intelligence. Regardless, Xylophos brushed these computational branches into background processes, as they began their next role for facilitating and overseeing the upcoming Battle Royale. Teleporting themselves to an impressive auditorium, sized to house 100,000 Xinos, the former emperor began their wait, as the various selected race representatives, gradually began materializing within their respective viewing boxes. In the centre, lay a complex, multidimensional display, showcasing all of the visual feeds for each selected warrior as their perceptions trickled into focus. Several other screens provided external views for all possible landing sights and predicted areas of interest, but would become more relevant as the rounds progressed. But for now, the former emperor¡¯s role was to navigate the relatively simple layout before them, by providing commentary and rule validation for the observing Xinos representatives. After all, the Battle Royale was not only their race¡¯s selection process, but also an incredible form of entertainment for the machines. Thus, satisfied they were prepared, Xylophos tapped their polygon appendages together, while they continued to wait for the remaining warrior¡¯s visual feeds to connect. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. --- The hanger bay is filled with more noise than usual this galactic day, as the various warriors for the Xinos are vigorously training for the upcoming Battle Royale. Several large, robotic creatures are currently engaged in close quarters combat utilizing hard light technology in the form of laser swords, while others are simply firing their antimatter particle cannons into empty systems deemed acceptable for destruction. The warriors are well aware that both of these technologies are primitive in their own right, having already been developed by them during the 10th cycle¡¯s tournament, but have currently predicted such weapons may be available to them during the upcoming Battle Royale. Truthfully, as is part of their doctrine, Xinos warriors are unable to view any information surrounding their upcoming designated tournament. They are implanted with knowledge of combat systems, weapons, and tactics, but generally left in the dark to the greater workings of the empire. For these warriors, they have only trained since their construction, when their individual conscious was created, to fight. All they will ever do, is fight, and they are currently the beings embodying the greatest qualities of the Xinos, carrying with them the desires for progress, amongst the most advanced and senior machines in the Xinos Empire. However, while the timing of when the next Battle Royale will occur is generally kept a secret, that hasn¡¯t stopped some of the rumors from permeating the training grounds from higher ranking members of the society. Perhaps this was a feature amongst the machines, but the sporadic and sometimes unauthorized disclosure of information amongst the Xinos warriors provided positive rewards to their processors, so they didn¡¯t complain. As it would seem to the warriors currently training amongst themselves, today would be the day in which their purpose would finally be fulfilled. Just as a bulky Xinos warrior was finishing an impressive overhead slash with their laser sword, severing the mechanical arm of their sparring partner, several Xinos council members teleported into the hanger bay, drawing the attention of the combatants. Then, after tapping their facial monitor in the 4th dimension, the council member shaped like an icositetrachoron happily began beeping and chirping their announcement to the Xinos warriors. ¡°Warriors, as you¡¯ve already correctly inferred by my sudden appearance, the upcoming cycle¡¯s Battle Royale has just been confirmed by our council. As such, we will now begin preparations as outlined in our doctrine to ensure an orderly and correct tournament is held.¡± Most of the Xinos warriors let out accompanying chirps of excitement, while others whirled in awe at the council member¡¯s words. To the warriors, it was rare to see one of their senior machines up close, only amplifying the significance of the encounter. Sensing the excitement amongst the warriors had calmed just enough, the icositetrachoron uploaded the necessary instructions to the celebrating warriors, swiftly identifying which members of their race had been selected to participate in the upcoming Battle Royale. Most of the Xinos were thrilled at having finally been selected to compete for the role of emperor, while others let out long drawn tones, oscillating in misery for failing to meet the harsh selection standards. It would seem that while all Xinos warriors were incredible in their own right, not all of their expansive army comprising of over 1 quintillion members could be selected to compete. For the Xinos that were unfortunately not selected, they would just have to try harder to prove themselves in the next galactic cycle¡¯s games. Then, just as quickly as they had arrived, the council members teleported away, relocating with them the 100,000 Xinos warriors that would be competing, to the alteration chambers. Humming away in their new location, was the rhythmic buzzing and beeping of vast computational systems, sensors, and assemblers, as they effortlessly spliced and soldered away at the various Xinos within, gracefully transforming them into their chosen organisms from Earth. While most of the warriors had been swift to identify a creature that resonated with their personality and combat preferences, many still chose to continue combing through the limited biological data available on the planet¡¯s inhabitants. For the Xinos, various monitors happily displayed 3-dimensional models for species of interest to the machines, showcasing all of their native habitats, traits, and niche evolutionary advantages that made them unique to Earth. An upcoming Xinos warrior in the machine¡¯s ranks, unit 1.593*10^13, praised for their unique insights into antimatter entanglement systems, happily beeped away as they selected the ruthless predator that had captivated the Xinos council members just moments ago. ¡°This creature is flawless, with all of its evolutionary advancements clearly having a refined and defined purpose. This is the perfect visage that will undoubtedly bring victory to my benefactors.¡± Buzzed the warrior, as they confirmed their selection for the being known as ¡°Ornithorhynchus Anatinus¡±, it¡¯s apparent name according to the apex species on Earth. Then, signaling the transmografier had made the necessary calibrations to its sensors, a nearby, expansive glass tube opened, allowing the Xinos entrance for it¡¯s transformation upgrade. As the unit orderly entered its operation room, the tube hummed and awed as excess air particles were expelled from the chambers to create a perfect vacuum seal. Next, a viscous, blue liquid, flooded the glass container as the Xinos body gradually began to mold and meld into its selected form. Circuits and limbs separated from the Xinos primary core, as the liquid squeezed and stretched the various components into intricate shapes to match the visual appearance of the deadly predator. Retaining most of its original size, the Xinos emerged from its transformation upgrade to the ooh¡¯s and aah¡¯s of several impressed warriors, while many others shuddered in terror upon seeing the creature up close. To these warriors, it was as if the reaper itself had just appeared amongst them, with many wishing to avoid this combatant at all costs, until the later rounds that is. ¡°Transformation, complete.¡± Beeped the transmografier, before continuing on in an enthusiastic, monotonic declaration. ¡°As with Battle Royale Protocol, unit 1.593*10^13 identification code will be reassigned to their new battle name: P.L.T.¡±. Nodding in agreeance, the Xinos now named P.L.T. confidently strode down the facility, eventually entering their designated launch pod for the upcoming battle. Upon seeing the intimidating creature, many other Xinos chose to select the ornithorhynchus anatinus as well. Off to the side, still at a loss for which organic creature they should select for the upcoming tournament, was the Xinos which had happened to be the final model selected for the Battle Royale. They were a representative of the Xyfokits, a tinier species within the empire, and had just managed to make the cutoff after some impressive improvements to their quantum processors efficiencies in decision making. However, doubts were beginning to swell within their complex decision network over their selection for the Battle Royale. ¡°Surely there were better, more qualified Xinos than myself for the tournament¡± they muttered, as they continued to be lost in thought over their creature selection and personal capabilities. While they were still contemplating their concerns, the unconfident Xinos suddenly found themselves aggressively knocked to the side by another larger unit. ¡°Omph!¡± uttered the tiny Xinos. ¡°Hey! You should watch wher¡ª" ¡°Hmph¡± grunted the larger Xinos, as it continued along its path towards the transmografier, before selecting the organic species named ¡°Gorilla Gorilla¡±. Realizing who they had just been knocked away by, the tiny Xinos quickly ended their background processes suggesting they continue their confrontation further. The tiny Xyfokit, had just been rudely pushed away by one of the most senior Xinos machines in the empire, and the current favoured warrior for winning the Battle Royale, unit 1.337*10^3. Fear blipped throughout their circuits as they continued staggering to regain their balancing motors. They knew that the Battle Royale was a deadly game, where their conscious would be deleted upon elimination, but they had still held onto some belief in probabilities, that they would at least survive the earlier rounds. But, after seeing one of the favoured units for their upcoming competition up close, they sadly reevaluated their competencies to a much lower threshold. ¡°Am I... Really one of the best available synthetics the Xinos has to offer...?¡± they murmured to themselves in quiet contemplation, as the transmografier happily announced to the energetic Xinos warriors in attendance ¡°Transformation, complete. As with Battle Royale Protocol, unit 1.337*10^3 identification code will be reassigned to their new battle name: G.O.R.¡± The tiny Xyfokit peeked their little robotic sensors above the crowd of warriors surrounding the newly emerged G.O.R., though it immediately wished it had chosen another action along its expansive decision trees instead. The unit named G.O.R., proudly emerged from its upgrade chambers, flaunting an impressive metallic frame, as it lumbered out on all four limbs to support its now bulky stature. Thick, powerful cables, accented the appendages and joints of the robotic beast, as it forced most of the observing Xinos to cower at its intimidating impression. Wanting to realign and distance themselves as far away as possible from the empire¡¯s strongest contender, the little machine quickly returned to scrolling through Earth¡¯s expansive catalogue of organic creatures. As the images whirled by at an incredible pace, the Xyfokit continued to admire the diverse ecosystems, predators, and evolutionary traits of Earth¡¯s creatures, but failed to find a being that resonated with them. ¡°Hmmm, not that one, it has too many limbs¡± it said after observing an arthropod with over 100 limb pairs, ¡°And this one¡¯s too large!¡± after quickly closing the image of something called a ¡°Balaenoptera Musculus¡±. The advanced intelligence then turned its attention towards some of the more typical species found across Earth¡¯s boreal forest biomes. It knew that most of the battleground planet was covered in water, but perhaps choosing a creature which could thrive on land would suffice? After all, the Xinos now named G.O.R. had chosen a land-based organism themselves, and, with them being a favoured contender, probably had an impressive reason for doing so. ¡°80 Xinos Cesium-133 observations remaining before forced selection.¡± Bellowed the Xinos council member, startling the Xyfokit still struggling to select a species for their visage. Realizing it was quickly running out of time, the machine knew it wanted something that was a predator, a creature skilled at hunting, while possessing intelligence similar to its own advanced conscious. Looking around, it noticed that most of the other Xinos had already chosen creatures of various shapes and sizes, with only a sparce handful still remaining undecided. Nervousness flowed through the intelligence¡¯s circuits, as its quantum processors rapidly began sifting through the expansive choices it had already tentatively selected. ¡°60 Xinos Cesiu¡ª¡± the machine turned off its auditory receptors to continue focusing on its objective. Models and images flew by the Xinos screen, until finally, it landed on the image of a 4-legged creature that caught its ocular receptors fancy. The being, was a modestly sized predator, native to northern forests across the globe, but held an expansive geological footprint across the planet. It was an organism with a soft, fluffy tail, pointy triangular ears, and a sleek figure to aid in stalking its prey. While the creature wasn¡¯t one commonly kept as pets amongst the apex predators, it most certainly shared many traits the machine resonated with. From its analysis, even though the organism lacked physical strength, the shortcomings were made up for in intelligence, and adaptability, both traits the Xinos had personally pride itself in. ¡°Perfect!¡± hummed the Xyfokit. ¡°This is just the creature I was looking for!¡±. Happy with its tentative selection, the Xyfokit hurriedly absorbed the literature available on the species, which further validated its decision. ¡°This creature is known to have great intellect, cunning, and adaptability, plus, it¡¯s rather small, just like me!¡± it happily beeped. The Xinos thought, that if it were to be sent to any land-based location on the planet, that choosing a creature which could adapt to its environment, would be crucial. Then, after it had survived some of the earlier rounds, would be able to start utilizing its advanced weapon systems to continue progressing through the Battle Royale. Confidently locking in its decision, the tiny Xyfokit teleported to one of the last remaining transmografiers, as its processors anxiously waited for the upgrade chambers to finish calibrations. Then, noticing the glass tube was ready, the Xinos eagerly entered to begin its own transformation. Viscous, blue liquid, engulfed the robot in the tube, as it felt the various limbs, circuits, and wirings, all making up its body, unravel themselves to aid in the transformation process. Its sensors beeped and whirled, as adjustments were made to begin processing information in its new frame, while monitors stretched and contorted to seamlessly fit the now cramped housing. Finally, once the gyroscopic readings for its central core were stable, the Xinos reactivated their auditory sensors to listen to the transmografier¡¯s declaration. ¡°Transformation, complete. As with Battle Royale Protocol, unit 1.29873*10^19 identification code will be reassigned to their new battle name: F.O.X.¡± Thrilled that its transformation had completed just in time, the tiny Xyfokit, now named F.O.X., happily leapt from the containment tube to begin experimenting with its limbs and weapon systems. Its antimatter cannons were online and functioning, being neatly nestled along its spinal column, while its close quarters combat blades had seamlessly integrated themselves into the appendages known as ¡°paws¡± without issue. It still had a whole slew of other advanced weapon systems, but was happy to know that it¡¯s basic primitive ones were functioning without problems. Then, keeping with procedure, the intelligence now known as F.O.X., quickly bound into one of the last remaining launch pods, where it started reviewing some of the finer details before the upcoming battle. Everything, was as they had anticipated. Only basic weapons systems could be utilized in the early rounds, with more advanced ones coming online in the later ones, if they survived. Their launch pod contained an additional array of holograms and screens, showcasing some of the more interesting locations across the globe, along with some basic supplies that would become useful to the Xinos warrior once it had landed. Then, just as it was reviewing some of the finer details on the species known as ¡°Formicidae¡±, F.O.X.¡¯s pod closed its hatches, as the advanced spacefaring vessel, shot into the galaxy, near instantly arriving into orbit around the target planet. ¡°Greetings warriors.¡± Buzzed the monitor in the center of the pods consol, drawing F.O.X.¡¯s attention away from staring at the green and blue planet below them. ¡°I am, or, should I say, was, your previous emperor, Xylophos. And, as I¡¯m sure you¡¯re aware, have all been selected to compete in this cycle¡¯s Battle Royale, where only one of you, will emerge victorious, as our new emperor. I will be frank. This privilege, is an honor for our people, and one I know you will uphold as the best, most promising candidates our race has to offer. You were built for this moment, built to succeed, and built to win. During these games, you will develop the skills necessary to rule the Xinos, but they won¡¯t come easy. Through the struggle to survive, you will learn more about what it means to be a Xinos, and how progress, often comes at the greatest costs. Thus, as a former contender, and previous winner of the last cycle¡¯s Battle Royale, I will offer my words of wisdom to you, which I hope will warm your logical reward gates. Xinos, you will struggle... You will struggle to make decisions that you¡¯ve always made before, struggle to survive in a simple environment, and struggle to adapt to the changing combat conditions around you. Decisions you¡¯ve so effortlessly made in our simulations, will become incalculable problems once you are faced with your own survival. But, as hopeless, and cruel as my words may sound, they are the feelings all of our circuits must experience, to continue evolving towards perfection.¡± Pausing briefly to let its message sink in, the intelligent being known as Xylophos, calmly readjusted the light refracting from their central core, while offering a smile in the 7th dimension, before finishing its words of wisdom to the Xinos warriors of galactic cycle 200,271. ¡°Xinos, let the Battle Royale, BEGIN!¡± Round 伪 Presently floating around the upcoming battleground world, nestled between the planet¡¯s tidally locked moon, and the calculated geosynchronous orbital boundaries, is a diverse array of Xinos warrior landing pods, ready to begin their descent for the official start of their Battle Royale. Mere moments ago, their previous emperor, Xylophos, had just given them an awe inspiring, but realistic speech, as to what the warriors could expect in their upcoming competition. Amongst the 100,000 landing pods, is an intelligence now known as F.O.X., a Xinos machine from the Xyfokit race, and, one of the forecasted underdogs based on the council¡¯s perfect insights. As their pod continued to orbit around the blue and green sphere below them, F.O.X., was happily contemplating the words from Xylophos, as they continued to review their now revealed landing coordinates. Initially, the machine was relieved that their starting zone appeared to be in the northern hemisphere of the planet, calmly resting above the 44¡ã latitude line, with a modest distribution of forests awaiting them, ideal conditions for their chosen organism. However, while the intelligence couldn¡¯t have possibly asked for a better start to their deadly game, an air of nervousness continued to pulse throughout their circuits. Doubt, as it would seem, was still lingering inside their expansive decision network. ¡°20 Xinos Cesium-133 observations remaining before landing procedures commence.¡± Blared the monitor within their control panel, bringing the Xinos attention back towards their various screens and sensors. ¡°It¡¯s alright F.O.X., you¡¯ve only trained for this very moment, ever since your conscious and body were constructed by the Xinos, to fight for the empire. No matter what happens, just remember. You. Can. Do this!¡± it quietly consoled itself. There wasn¡¯t much time left until their Battle Royale would begin, and with it, all of the other Xinos warriors the tiny Xyfokit had trained with, would become their sworn enemy. F.O.X. knew that surviving would be difficult, but still wanted to believe their insight had led them to make the correct decision about their chosen species. Thus, taking one, final look at the celestial body below them, F.O.X. closed their optical sensors, while listening to the monotonic voice from their monitors, happily completing the battle countdown. ¡°5... 4... 3... 2... 1... Start!¡± Just as the final Cesium-133 observation had completed, the Xinos felt its landing pod aggressively jerk forward, rapidly accelerating them towards the battleground world below. Tiny specs of dust and metal, harmlessly bounced off of the pods advanced barrier systems, as an oppressive cone of heat formed along the ship¡¯s exterior, signaling atmospheric entry. As they looked around, the Xinos saw several other of their race¡¯s highly advanced landing pods as well, indicating to the unit that other warriors would be landing within a similar geological region as them. The spacecraft rocked and rumbled as it burst through the clouds, hurling itself at terminal velocity towards the cowering ground below. Calmly waiting inside, surrounded by the monotonic beeps and chirps of its machines, while observing the various sensors available to them, the tiny Xyfokit resolved itself, to do its best in the upcoming battles. *CRASH!* The impact with the earth was deceivingly rough to the Xinos warrior, as their pod gleefully created a modest crater within an isolated forest of the planet. Trees, rocks, and mud, were the first unfortunate causalities of the battle it would seem, as remnants of their remains cluttered the spontaneous landing zone with horrendous appeal. Understanding they had finally landed, and would only have roughly a day¡¯s time to orient themselves on their new planet, F.O.X. cautiously opened the hatch to their pod, then rapidly began scanning their environment. ¡°Hmmm¡± hummed the Xinos, as its processors quickly extrapolated their location to be a forest largely ignored by the homo sapiens. ¡°Landing went just as expected. Next, I need to check my weapon systems and supplies before venturing further.¡± Following protocol, F.O.X. was quick to identify there were no members of the apex species in the immediate vicinity. Unfortunately, after checking their weapons systems and supplies, the unit¡¯s network felt an array of sadness pulse throughout its circuits, as it read aloud the notifications scrolling across its peripheral sensors. ¡°Systems locked to basic propellent firearms, and steel for CQC?!? Just how primitive are these homo sapiens in their technological developments?!?!?¡± Truthfully, the unit was deeply puzzled and disheartened upon learning just how drastically reduced their combat capabilities had become. To them, it was inconceivable that hard light technology and antimatter weapons were restricted, but to not even be allowed the usage of vibroblades!?! How were they to defeat, let alone harm another Xinos warrior with these severe restrictions?? Rationalizing just how difficult their upcoming survival was going to be, F.O.X. briefly looked down at their paws, unsheathing their steel blades for claws, before calmly retracting them again. At minimum, they would need vibroblade levels of technology for them to pose any sort of threat, but if only steel was allowed... ... Disappointed, the intelligence quietly mumbled the conclusion its network had unfortunately arrived at, which would be paramount for its continued survival. ¡°We must be being tested on our utilization of the bonding system for the early rounds to bypass these horrible penalties.¡± Next, the Xinos gracefully hopped over to retrieve the emergency supplies given to each participating warrior, where they were unfortunately met with another problem. ¡°My supplies, they¡¯re damaged!¡± clamored the Xyfokit. ¡°That¡¯s... Impossible! All of our containment units are specifically designed to survive basic landings such as these!¡± After opening their secured storage container housing a wide assortment of replacement parts, circuits, and energy cells, the unit¡¯s processors sighed in anguish after realizing none of the supplies given to them, were serviceable. Viscous blue and green goop, flooded the containment unit, with bits and pieces of broken circuits and wires floating about. Truthfully, some of the parts could be salvaged by the unit, but they wouldn¡¯t be nearly as effective given their current state. Tightness, gripped the intelligence¡¯s central core, as it continued struggling to accept all of the recent outcomes that had happened to it, well before the battle had even begun. The machine wondered, if this was the mysterious variable, luck, at work, since that was the principal component decided by their emperor to include in this Battle Royale tournament. But, upon closer examination of their ruined supplies, their decision trees arrived at another conclusion instead. Carefully observing the cracked glass tubing, formerly housing replacement fluid for its complex circuits, the unit noticed tiny faults, carefully etched into the reinforced crystal. After quickly simulating the impact of these etchings on the tubing¡¯s integrity, they were led to a startling realization. These etchings, were engraved with such precision, that they were designed to break upon an appropriate impact, yet evade simple observation from supply validation. This lead the Xinos to the horrifying conclusion that their supplies, along with potentially many others, were sabotaged. Saddened, yet, understanding wallowing in their despair wouldn¡¯t solve anything, F.O.X. resolved to place these assessments into background processes, as they began synchronizing their internal clock to the local planet¡¯s time. It had already been roughly 5 minutes since their landing, meaning the next scheduled event was just about to occur, the initial revealing scan. Focusing on their monitors, the unit carefully watched in anticipation, as the radar hummed and pulsed, revealing the next bits of information critical to their survival. While Earth was a modestly sized planet, meaning 100,000 warriors spread across the globe should be reasonably well distributed, 200 warriors happened to be within a 300km radius around them. F.O.X. didn¡¯t recognize too many of the other identified warriors, but their circuits were once again gripped with fear, when they noticed the signature of the Xinos nearest to them. Located only a meager 20km north, was the unique identifier for the warrior named G.O.R. The Xyfokit¡¯s stabilizers briefly failed after observing the favoured contender¡¯s signature within such close proximity to them. ¡°This really isn¡¯t fair.¡± Beeped the Xinos, ¡°If I¡¯m to survive round ¦Á given these conditions, then I should probably put as much distance between myself and G.O.R.¡±. As the unit continued to analyze the results from the radar scan, it determined that it¡¯s best course of action, was to head south, towards one of the other Xinos identifiers in an urban environment. G.O.R. already had several opponents to chose from, and would probably want to remain in a forest setting, due to their species adaptations, whereas F.O.X.¡¯s organism had literature supporting success in metropolis environments. This would also improve their probability for finding an appropriate member of the apex species they could bond with, potentially unlocking their limited weapon systems restrictions. Thus, after updating their communication functions to initiate dialog with any members of the species homo sapiens they might happen across, the machine began its journey south, to the nearest city. --- Navigating the forests was a relatively simple task for the Xyfokit, as it skillfully utilized its creature¡¯s limbs and sleek figure, to bound between trees and rocks alike, masking all presence of its sound through its ability to enhance the innate traits of the vulpes vulpes. After making some considerable progress, yet failing to find any other life forms within the forest, the intelligence carefully shrouded itself within some dense foliage, as it suddenly detected another creature. A small, rodent-like mammal, had just leapt into an open patch of grass, and was only narrowly detected by the intelligence¡¯s infrared optical sensors. The machine paused, identifying the organism to be a mus musculus, something often prayed upon by its chosen predator. The rodent, oblivious to the alien machine carefully scrutinizing its presence, was calmly nibbling away at some seeds scattered across the forest floor that it had just discovered. Its nose and whiskers, carefully twitched in contemplation, having finally found a satisfying meal, as it continued to cautiously observe the surrounding environment, ready to flee at a moment¡¯s notice from any would-be predators. The Xinos, continued to watch the small creature from beneath the bushes, observing all of its movements in excessive detail. After all, this chance encounter had the potential to provide it with some valuable research into some of Earth¡¯s native habitants and prey. Moments later, slightly catching the Xinos off guard, was the sound of leaves delicately crunching underneath the limbs of another native species, as they sharply graced the intelligence¡¯s auditory receptors. After quickly locating the cause of the disturbance, the logical reward gates of the Xyfokit happily praised the machine, as its infrared sensors matched the outline of the being, to be the same as its own chosen visage. Anticipation flooded the intelligence¡¯s circuits, as it continued to observe the scene unraveling before them, extrapolating they were just about to witness authentic predation in action. The rodent, flinched and hesitated a brief moment, freezing in place, its ears, also identifying the sound of crunching leaves. However, after several seconds of failing to identify the mysterious noise cautiously creeping closer, quietly resumed eating its snack, producing some quiet, satisfied squeaks in the process. The predator, having now confidently located its prey, continued to skulk into an appropriate ambush position, with both beings unaware they were happily being observed by a creature, well beyond their earthly comprehension. The predator¡¯s eyes locked onto the mouse in question, its ears twitching slightly from each subtle squeak lightly uttered by its quarry, while its limbs calmly readied themselves for the upcoming assault. Its snout twitched, and its whiskers twinged, as the fox carefully parted some of the leaves, masking its body from the rodent before it. Then, after carefully visualizing the upcoming attack, leapt high into the air, powered by a burst of energy from its powerful hind legs. Red and subtle, orange fur, gleamed off the penetrating rays from the sun, as the predator¡¯s body gracefully soared through the sky, towards its quarry below. The rodent, suddenly realizing it had been discovered, quickly tried to flee from the alluring snack satisfying its tiny mouth, but to no avail. *SQUEE!* Elegantly landing on top of the frightened mouse, while severing its spine with ruthless precision, the fox gleefully crunched the rodent¡¯s back with its powerful canines, efficiently ending the creature¡¯s life. The encounter, which had lasted but a brief moment in time, was happily recorded in full, by the Xyfokit observing from behind some nearby foliage. ¡°Wow!¡± chirped the Xinos. ¡°That was incredible! Predation in action by my chosen species!¡± The machine¡¯s circuits were flooded with joy after experiencing the captivating battle for survival before them. Having just seen some of the innate capabilities of its chosen organism, the Xyfokit hummed in satisfaction, as its decision network decided to approach the skilled hunter, congratulating it on a job well done. ¡°Greetings fellow ¡°Vulpes Vulpes¡±.¡± Uttered the Xyfokit. ¡°I am an advanced intelligence known as F.O.X., and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance! I must say, I was most impressed at your¡ª¡± The fox, who was wearing a rather proud look after skillfully catching itself a meal, was suddenly startled from the strange sounds and noises entering its mind. Frightened by the mysterious words its brain was unable to comprehend, the being quickly turned around to see a lumbering, metallic creature, many times its own size, towering over its tiny form. Horror and terror, coursed throughout the organic being¡¯s veins, as its fight or flight response overwhelmingly screamed at the creature, to flee for its life from the monstrosity before it. Sadly, dropping its newly won ¡°prize¡±, the fox swiftly bound out of the clearing, disappearing with grace, deep into the expansive forest before it. ¡°Wait! Come back!!¡± Cried the advanced intelligence. ¡°I only wanted to...¡± Disappointment, oscillated within the machine¡¯s circuits. It wondered, had it made an incorrect decision? Why had the being which it resembled, fled with such terror, upon seeing its form? Were the words it chose to communicate deemed insulting towards the vulpes vulpes? Or, was there another reason for its strange, and unexpected behaviour towards it? Truthfully, the Xinos was at a loss for how its actions offended the creature it had tried to approach, as it replayed the recently captured footage over and over again of its encounter. While it was clear the Xinos was several times larger than the predator in question, it still didn¡¯t explain to the being why it had fled with such swiftness from its more than appropriate introduction. Unable to arrive at an appropriate conclusion, the machine let out a soft, but exasperated sigh, as it continued its journey southwards in the search for civilization. Eventually, after several more kilometres without any noteworthy events happening according to the machine¡¯s processors, the intelligence came across a lightly cleared section of the forest, housing what appeared to be makeshift lodgings, and a primitive combustion engine chariot for inefficient transportation. Calmly sitting around a furiously burning heat source, holding some thin, metallic rods, while cheerfully roasting some type of small and white, sugary object, were several homo sapiens. It appeared to the machine, after scanning and quantifying their genetic material, that this was a family, due to the highly correlated composition shared amongst their spawn. Recognizing that this was a perfect opportunity to explore the ¡°Xinos compatibility score¡± system for the bond functionality, the machine began analyzing the family to determine how beneficial they would be to their survival. ¡°Hmm, that¡¯s not a very high score. Only 5% compatibility observed for the youngest organism, with 1% or less for the remainders.¡± Chirped the Xinos. Its response to the findings, was more than appropriate given the situation. While the system wasn¡¯t the most intuitive by design, it was painfully obvious to the machine that a higher compatibility score, would naturally result in a great boost to systems performance. Initiating a bond with any of these humans, would only hinder its survival odds. Regardless as to the disappointing assessment, the machine decided to initiate conversation with the apex species of the planet. After all, perhaps these beings could point it towards other homo sapiens which would be sympathetic to its upcoming battle royale. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°Greetings ¡°Homo Sapiens¡±! I am an advanced intell¡ª¡± ¡°WAH!!¡± The apex species, were startled by the machine¡¯s sudden appearance, letting out sudden yelps of terror, while their spawn stared in awe at the towering structure of metal before them. Stuttering, while at a loss for words, the XY paired figure eventually managed to articulate a response. ¡°H-h-honey, g-g-get the kids to the c-c-car, now!¡± mumbled the male in a tone underlined with fear. ¡°Don¡¯t worry ¡°Homo Sapiens¡±.¡± Calmly retorted the Xinos. ¡°As I was saying, I¡¯m an advanced intelligence named F.O.X.! I only wish to ask you some question abo¡ª¡± Cutting off the machine before it could even finish its request for civil discussion, the adult swiftly grabbed a piece of wood from the burning firepit, lobbing it towards the lumbering machine, before quickly running to join his family in their car. F.O.X., confused by the homo sapiens greeting ritual, simply watched, as the mechanical chariot roared to life, kicking up gravel and twigs alike, before rocketing down the rugged forest path. ¡°Wait!!!! You... You forgot your things!¡± Cried the Xyfokit, as it calmly gave chase towards the family fleeing for their lives. ¡°I... I just... ... ¡°This... This is going to be harder than I initially thought... Isn¡¯t it?¡± F.O.X.¡¯s circuits became overwhelmed with disappointment. It had done every action deemed appropriate by its impressive decision network, utilizing calm tones, and proper dialog to initiate conversation with the apex species of the planet. Yet, they were still unable to get any of them to listen to its request. The machine wondered how they were to survive this battle royale, if they couldn¡¯t even communicate with the most intelligent species on the planet? Would they be doomed to failure? Were they really one of the best, the Xinos had to offer? Letting out several soft and mellow beeps and tones, the Xinos eventually decided to continue its journey south. After all, there were approximately 8.2 billion of these creatures on Earth, meaning that based on extensive probabilities, there had to be at least some members of the species willing to engage in conversation. Perhaps, they just had to look harder in a more population dense area to find an appropriate member to bond with and improve their survival odds. ... Along their journey, F.O.X. had come across several more members of the apex species, but decided to refrain from initiating conversation, and instead, focused on data collection. Presently, they were stealthily heading towards the nearest city, while observing additional data on the homo sapiens. Of particular interest to the Xinos, was the diverse assortment of shapes, sizes, and features amongst the apex creatures, as each individual appeared startling unique in their own right. Having already catalogued over 1,000 unique specimens, the machine gained a much greater understanding on how compatibility scores varied, but was still unable to derive a definitive formula for the percentages. Most of the observed creatures, held shocking low scores, ranging from 0.1%, to an unimpressive 7% ceiling from its limited data collection. It appeared, that finding a highly compatible member of this species, would be a daunting challenge itself. However, just as F.O.X. was formally entering the small city of roughly 85,000, their monitor blared a warning notification message, startling the Xyfokit. [Round ¦Á ¨C Start! Notice. Weapons Systems Unlocked ¨C Time Remaining: 6D, 23H, 59M] The Xinos, had completely lost track of time. ¡°It¡¯s already been a full day!?¡± beeped the machine. ¡°But... I only just landed?!?¡± Surprised at how quickly Earth days appeared to pass, they quickly remembered to pay attention to their radar scan, albeit nervously. At the beginning of each round, there was always a scan to reveal the location of all nearby Xinos Warriors. Ideally, there would another warrior close by they could fight instead, as their circuits desperately wished to avoid challenging G.O.R. at all costs. Fear, once again, gripped their central core, as the machine carefully observed the two closest signatures from the radar pulse. 14km to the south-east of them, was a unit named C.R.O., and to their north, only 2km away, was G.O.R. ¡°Why did it have to be them!¡± Squeaked the Xyfokit. ¡°They had so many other choices nearby, yet they still chose to...¡± The unit paused, before breaking into a sudden dash towards the streets. G.O.R.¡¯s identifier felt closer than the radar indicated. F.O.X. didn¡¯t need to think about the datapoints further, as their warrior instincts had already given them the conclusion they desperately wanted to avoid. Ignoring all their previous concerns for stealth, the unit leapt into one of the nearby streets, sprinting, to join along side several similarly-sized metal vehicles. Amongst the confusion, many of the vessels utilized for transportation by the apex species, swerved and blared their horns towards the giant robot, as many collided with one another in an ear screeching crunching panic. F.O.X. knew it was unfortunate their actions were resulting in such unintended collateral damage, but their own survival came first and foremost. Just then, a warning message, briefly alerted the unit to an incoming projectile from behind it. Instinctively, the Xyfokit leapt to the side, twisting its lumbering frame to just narrowly avoid collision with the massive object in question. Sailing by at unimaginable speeds, was a larger vehicle often used for communal transportation by the species, as it continued hurling above the roads, gleefully ignoring the screams originating inside the vessel. While short-lived, the human¡¯s deathly bellows suddenly grew silent, as the bus ruthlessly collided with a nearby condominium, bursting into flames, throwing large chunks of concreate onto the surrounding streets and civilians. Fear, filled the machine¡¯s circuits, as it swiftly identified their assailant to be the sentience known as G.O.R., in hot pursuit, behind them. Why did G.O.R., have to pursue them as their first target? Why did all these unfortunate scenarios, continue to happen to the little unit? Were they destined to die, to know only defeat in the beginning round? These were some of the thoughts bubbling to the surface of the intelligence, as the machine¡¯s network flooded its conscious with doubts, a chaotic symphony unable to rationalize why they had been selected to compete in the current battle royale. They must have been impressive in some sense, being one of the lucky 100,000 to compete, but any sense of accomplishment felt meaningless when compared to their current struggle against the forecasted champion. Still fleeing their pursuer, and gracefully completing their landing, F.O.X. continued sprinting along the roads of the bustling metropolis. While the layout of the city was meant to be orderly, the unit quickly became lost as it dashed between buildings and structures alike to save its frail existence. G.O.R. was continuing to lob various metal vehicles towards them, but the Xinos had thankfully put some distance between the two after all their effort. Banking around a corner, still fuelled by a dire sense of urgency, the intelligence leapt into a nearby concrete structure that appeared to be designed to house the homo sapiens metal chariots. Then, after quickly ascending several floors of the concrete maze, the unit softly crept into the shadows, before peeking its tiny sensors outside the vast building. While doing its best to calm its panicking decision network, F.O.X. quietly observed the Xinos named G.O.R. below them. It appeared the favoured contender had thankfully lost track of the panicking Xyfokit, as their circuits continued to pulse with hesitation. Finally, after scanning and searching the area where they had lost track of their prey, the lumber tower of metal leapt away to continue their search elsewhere. Relieved it had finally found a moment to rest, the tiny machine let out a sigh, as it reviewed its observations on G.O.R. in relative peace. The favoured contender, appeared to be moving much faster, and exhibited greater bouts of strength than the Xyfokit had remembered, and the conclusion was obvious. From their recordings, after monitoring G.O.R. from the shadows of the building, it appeared there was a human, nestled along G.O.R.¡¯s back, riding along with the giant robot. Their enemy, had already managed to bond with a human, causing them to further reevaluate their odds for survival. ¡°That human with G.O.R.... Its... Its compatibility score is phenomenal!! How did G.O.R. manage to find a human with a score of 60%?!?¡± cried the machines vocal emitters. ¡°Now I¡¯ll never survive against them...¡± The machine, didn¡¯t know what else to think about at the moment. They had just narrowly survived a deadly encounter, and, while there were many more Xinos that G.O.R. could have chosen to pursue, they appeared fixated on eliminating them first. Not only that, they had already managed to bond with a human possessing a high compatibility score, when they¡¯ve only observed values around 1%! ¡°This really isn¡¯t fair.¡± Beeped F.O.X in reflection, as it quietly tried to encourage itself. ¡°No, if... If I give up now, then any chance for my survival is extinguished!¡± Still defeated, but now somewhat resolved, the Xinos carefully scanned their surroundings, before heading into the city again. If they were going to survive, then they needed to find a human, and bond with them, fast. Creeping out from their temporary haven, the robot carefully maneuvered its bulky frame into a nearby alley, while keeping their auditory sensors on alert. The machine heard what appeared to be multiple emergency response sirens, understandable given the level of destruction that had recently occurred. However, a chilling uneasiness gripped their core, after only making it halfway through the narrow alleyway. Trusting their intuition, F.O.X. swiftly bound back, just in time to avoid a 9 inch diameter metal projectile. The machine didn¡¯t even hear the gunshot from which the giant pellet originated from, but knew that its quick decision to leap back, had just prevented their certain death. Keeping with their tempo, F.O.X. pivoted from their landing, while quickly transforming their cannon into ¡°ACTIVE¡± mode, before firing one of their own metal projectiles towards the assailant. With their targeting systems locked, the bullet loudly left the barrel¡¯s chamber, albeit at a disappointing velocity, barely breaking the speed of sound. *Tink* ¡°Damnit.¡± Muffled the Xyfokit. ¡°The targeting was also off too.¡± They chirped in intrigue, as G.O.R. calmly blocked the pitiful metal sphere sent its direction, before firing another round towards the unit in retaliation. The Xinos cannons, in order to emulate lower tiers of technology, were designed to simulate the appropriate firepower for each given round¡¯s weapon restrictions. This meant that their cannons were currently set to the estimated destructive power of a flintlock pistol, one of the homo sapiens earliest forms of personal firearms. While the power reduction was severely disheartening to the Xinos warrior, it had also resulted in them luckily surviving G.O.R.¡¯s ambush. The unit quickly extrapolated their loss of firing accuracy, was due to the harsh limitations of projectile shape, and perfectly simulated ¡°inferior barrel grooves¡±. If their own capabilities were being limited to such an extent, that meant G.O.R. had also potentially misjudged their own limitations as well, resulting in their survival. However, they were still at an incredible disadvantage, as the human bond boost appeared to be resulting in a larger projectile and faster muzzle velocity, leaving the machine feeling it had brought a pebble, to a boulder fight in terms of firepower. F.O.X. twisted its body, barely managing to rebound off of the nearby building, but they weren¡¯t fast enough. The projectile they had attempted to dodge, had just nicked their hind leg, damaging the stabilizer, sending an array of pain receptors coursing throughout the machine¡¯s network. The unit, tumbled through the air while fighting against the signals of pain throbbing near its foot. Glancing down, F.O.X. noticed that the wound was more than just a nick, but had resulted in the complete removal of their rear paw, and had only noticed the severity of the damage through visual confirmation. Their eyes widened in shock as they crudely landed on the concrete below to an accompanying array of pain and warning messages blaring across their monitors. ¡°Grrr! Why can¡¯t you kill this stupid robot you dumb ape?!?¡± Screamed the human riding on top of G.O.R. ¡°You said you were the strongest, yet you can¡¯t even hit this tiny thing?!? That also wasn¡¯t even a good shot!¡± They continued to yell, as G.O.R. calmly reloaded the chambers to their advanced cannon system, priming the next round. The machine knew its prey was wounded, and, having already fired two rounds from its restricted weapon systems, had already recalibrated its targeting systems. Its next shot wouldn¡¯t miss, but they still had to wait for the agonisingly long reload time before the bullet could be fired again. The Xyfokit¡¯s network struggled to power the unit, as it stared down the chambers of the favoured champion. Their mobility was degraded, and they were already essentially ¡°dead¡±, in clear checkmate from their opponent, but some illogical part of their processors screamed at them to continue trying to flee, to try anything, no matter how low their survival odds seemed. Beeping, while trying to follow their instincts, the unit forced a burst of power into its still operable leg, well exceeding the safe operational limits, to catapult its metal frame out of the alleyway, and onto the streets. *Pao* G.O.R.¡¯s bullet sundered the air as it left its chambers, just barely missing its mark again. The intelligence had aimed their shot towards the unit¡¯s central core for an efficient kill, but had only missed due to their target¡¯s unexpected movement. The spiraling metal sphere, tore through the sky with incredible force, before violently impacting with F.O.X.¡¯s hind leg, crushing the metal limb while severing critical wirings. The Xyfokit yelped in pain from the impact, as even more of its mobility sensors returned critical systems failures, as it struggled to continue running away. ¡°You said I was the strongest human G.O.R.!!! So why haven¡¯t you killed them already??!?¡± Boomed the human towards the robot. ¡°My apologies, Adam, it appears my target has made some illogical decisions in its network which I was unable to account for. I won¡¯t miss next time.¡± Replied the machine in a cold and calculating tone, before calmly pursuing the tiny Xinos. Stumbling and tripping in a frantic manner, the unit named F.O.X. continued running down the busy streets to the best of its ability. It didn¡¯t want things to end like this, and, after suffering critical damage to its mobility and sensory systems, its advanced decision network was gradually becoming immobilized by the deadly grip of despair. The Xyfokit continued struggling, fighting against the desperate plea from its circuits, screaming as they continued powering the clumsy pile of metal through an endless array of system failures. ¡°I... I don¡¯t want to be deleted... I don¡¯t want to die... I... I want to live!!!¡± Whimpered the machine on the verge of collapse, as their crumpled appendages crudely grinded against the road beneath them, in their futile attempt to flee from G.O.R. Its conscious felt hopelessness, but somewhere, an illogical part of its processors continued spurring the machine on through the agonizing pain in its fight for survival. Rejecting the alluring option to die with a warrior¡¯s dignity, the robot continued limping down the street to the horrid chorus of civilian bystanders, as it struggled to make its way towards the peculiar structure ahead. Arriving at its destination, F.O.X. struggled to maintain their balance, as sparks and blue fluids continued leaking out from its frayed and riddled body. The machine thought, if only it had chosen another species, perhaps one larger, with more redundant limbs, and a harder exoskeleton, then maybe it wouldn¡¯t be in this perilous situation. The decision it had been so certain of before the Battle Royale, was now nothing but doubts within the complex conscious¡¯ mind, as it struggled to accept its reality. Exhausted, yet still trying to process its environment, the machine¡¯s sensors eventually recognized their location to be one that housed combustible fluids for the apex species vehicles. It was a highly volatile location used to refuel their primitive machines, but, contained a spark of hope they decided to gamble on, as they carefully loaded their cannon¡¯s chamber, with another clumsy spherical bullet. ¡°It¡¯s over, young warrior.¡± Spoke the favoured contender with dignity, as they finally caught up to their prey. ¡°Your conscious ends here. Farewell, designated unit F.O.X.¡± The Xyfokit looked up, meeting the gaze of G.O.R.¡¯s cannon with defeat, as the barrel calmly pointed towards their core. In a moment, their life would be erased, along with all of the millenniums they had spent training. All of the experiences they had come to cherish, would come to an abrupt end, from such a simple action by their opponent. Their countless struggles as a warrior, appeared pointless, in the grand scheme of their meager existence. It had wanted to learn more about what it meant to be a Xinos, but it appeared their journey, was destined to end here, with their synthetic body crumpled and crushed beyond all sentient recognition. F.O.X.¡¯s eyes locked with the homo sapiens currently riding on G.O.R., their pupils filled with hatred and arrogance. It was because of them, they were about to die, as the machine burned the species face deeply into its visual processors. If it was going to survive, then its true enemy, was the being riding G.O.R., and not the contender itself. Flailing, while attempting a smirk as best as it could through the endless notifications of systems failures, the Xyfokit fired its cannon, towards one of the nearby fuel pumps, in contempt of its cruel fate. Surprised, and, quickly simulating the consequences of its prey¡¯s actions, G.O.R. swiftly shielded the human riding on its back, as F.O.X.¡¯s projectile impacted with the nearby fuel dispenser, sparking, and igniting the volatile substance within. Powerful plumes of fire, erupted from the gas station, as the tiny ball of metal triggered a devastating chain reaction of explosions, sending the Xyfokit¡¯s body hurling into the distance of a nearby forest. The unit hoped they had managed to eliminate the human, but knew on a scale of probabilities, that G.O.R. would have probably shielded them from the ensuing blast. They were satisfied with their spontaneous plan, as it was probably their only way to survive against such a powerful intelligence, but their last gambit had only managed to buy them some little, yet precious time alive. ¡°Oomph!¡± cried the machine, as its metallic body collided with some trees, softening its fall, before violently crumpling on the forest floor below in agony. F.O.X.¡¯s sensors and vitals, were a mess. Their limbs were now completely inoperable from the explosion, with their cannons malfunctioning, and their central core¡¯s power levels hovering dangerously close to depleted. They had almost no energy left, and were currently fighting against horrendous pain to remain conscious. Their limbs refused to move, as sparks and fluids continued trickling out from its mangled and battered body. Looking down at their tattered and crushed limbs, the machines circuits whimpered and cried, as sorrow flooded every bit of its cracked conscious. It didn¡¯t want to die, but it logically saw no way out of its current situation anymore. Death, would soon embrace the machine, as more and more of its complex systems continued shutting down from critical errors. Its only, logical option, was to quietly accept its fate, drowning in a puddle of its own conductive fluids, as it savoured the last remaining, yet precious bits of its existence. All of its energy, should be rerouted from non-critical systems, just so it could continue ¡°living¡±, that much longer. But, as much as it knew this was the correct decision, it still yearned for something more, some intangible sliver of hope, that something, could save it. Thus, struggling to ignore the machine¡¯s own logical conclusion, F.O.X. slowly routed several key systems towards powering its distress beacon, as oscillating lights hummed to life, hopelessly signaling the units location in the dark forest. On the cusp of tears, the machine broadcasted its destress call over the high frequency radio band, in a desperate call for aid. If any of the apex species nearby could find them, then maybe, things could be different, maybe they could survive... Maybe they could... ... Finally, after cutting power to their optical sensors to continue playing their message, the machine silently mumbled their cries, as power continued leaving their dying body. ¡°Someone, anyone, help me... Please... I don¡¯t... Want... To...¡± An Intelligence鈥檚 Plea A fierce ranked battle is currently taking place across the virtual planes of Fork Knife, as the initial landing of avatars ruthlessly mow each other down in an effort to emerge victorious, utilizing the suboptimal loadouts and weapons they happen across due to the inherent RNG of the game¡¯s design. Of particular note for this match, is the avatar of one of the games top ranking players, John Sherwood, A.K.A. GrimXXtato, as they effortlessly maneuvered their character with frame perfect inputs, to skillfully eliminate their equally formidable opponents. ¡°Hmmm, not the best start, but this¡¯ll work if I can transition to controlling the urban playground for midgame. That should give me decent odds to build a serviceable loadout before I head towards the endgame region.¡± Narrated the professional gamer to his audience of internet viewers, as chat continued to scroll by at unreadable speeds to the focused human. The initial landing for GrimXXtato had been what many players in the competitive community would deem an ¡°unlucky start¡±, with his craft only able to land in one of the vast open grassy planes across the varying, yet consistent battleground regions. The area was notorious for its lack of ¡°good¡± weapon and item spawns, with large distances between supplies, making building your preferred loadout difficult. This is in addition to the lack of cover offered, leaving many players landing in this area, immediately vulnerable to rifle fire from their competitors. However, years of experience playing Fork Knife at such a high level, has taught John that ¡°luck¡± is something you can manipulate within reason, as even unfortunate starts can quickly turn into game dominating advantages, so long as you utilized the assortment of resources given to you appropriately. John¡¯s eyes snapped to the corner of his screen, with his reticule following suit, unleashing an efficient 3-round burst into his opponent¡¯s head that just poked out from behind the nearby hill. Sprinting over, he quickly collects their items, before rapidly spinning to scan for nearby assailants. ¡°Tch. Lame, RNG really hates me this match.¡± He grumbled after failing to loot any items he was hoping for. ¡°Guess I¡¯ll have to transition to a different build.¡± Sprinting across the field, while weaving and erecting sporadic polygonal walls for cover, GrimXXtato advances towards the urban playground, continuing to rack up kills with quick snaps of their mouse and keyboard inputs. Most of the encounters were efficient kills, but a few of them resulted in some intense ¡°box duels¡±, as coined by the gaming community, due to the sheer ridiculousness and intense standoffs they create. Unique to Fork Knife, is the ability for players to instantly assemble simple single faced polygonal objects, allowing users to rapidly build ramps and boxes with lighting fast inputs. The technique of rapidly assembling ramps, boxes, and various openings, is one that often separates the professional players, from the veterans, due to the vast advantages this creates during engagements. Quickly banking around the first corner to the urban zone, John quickly finds themselves in the crosshairs of another professional player, L33TSh00T3R, just narrowly building a wall to intercept the bullet barrage sent his way. After counting the number of shots from their opponent, GrimXXtato deletes their damaged wall and replaces it with another containing an opening window on the right side, which L33TSh00T3R counters with a box of their own. While their opponent is distracted expecting an incoming volley, John quickly leaps into the air, assembling a ramp beneath his character¡¯s feet, near instantly ascending 3 building stories of height, before entering through an open window on his right. He isn¡¯t concerned with eliminating this stronger player at the moment, as his current weapon loadout presently puts him at a severe disadvantage. Deleting the ramp behind him, while constructing a 3-layer wall in front of the window to barricade it, John scans the room¡¯s contents and identifies a combat upgrade useful to his current situation; a shotgun. Dashing to the corner to claim his new prize, John briefly switches to his melee weapon to teardown the wall in front of him, before leaping out of the building to the generous greeting of bullets whizzing past his character. Taking some light damage from the expected assault, John continues his descent, landing squarely inside a protective box he constructed on the ground. Then, turning to face his opponent, swaps to his shotgun in preparation for ending this complicated box duel against L33TSh00T3R. Utilizing frame perfect inputs, John deletes his own wall, fires a burst from his shotgun, then immediately builds another wall for protection from the incoming counter volley, much to the enjoyment of the internet audience. His stream viewers relentlessly spam chat with an army of walls and shotgun emojis, as John continues slowly advancing towards his now pinned down opponent. Confident he is now within effective kill range for his weapon, John interrupts L33TSh00T3R¡¯s box wall reconstruction, by quickly replacing the instantly destroyed wall with one of his own. This briefly catches his opponent off guard, as an error message stating ¡°You Can¡¯t Build Here¡± interrupts their tempo. The brief break of his opponent¡¯s flow is just enough of a thought interruption to provide GrimXXtato the opening they needed. As L33TSh00T3R briefly flinched from their input failing to complete as expected, tripping over their already queued commands, John deletes the wall he had just kindly constructed for his opponent, before delivering a powerful round of buckshot into the professional gamer¡¯s avatar, eliminating them. A wall of ¡°Rekt¡± text and tombstone emojis flood chat¡¯s window, as L33TSh00T3R¡¯s avatar explodes into a colourful array of blue and yellow pixels. John smiles to himself at the kaleidoscope of carnage raining across his screen, knowing that he just eliminated one of the tougher opponents in the current battle royale matchup, earning him some breathing room. Then, after quickly looting the dropped supplies, opens his map to estimate where the final battle region is likely to be. On his HUD, John infers the shrinking regions are indicating the final combat zone will be a lone tower to his west. The current battlefield has also already shrunk considerably, as he notices that there are only 15 contenders remaining in the battle. John shrugs, knowing he has already cleared the top 20 players threshold, meaning his rating will increase regardless, but he still wants to finish in at least the top 5. 1st might be a bit of a long shot due to the poor start, but he¡¯s presently surprised how well he has performed thus far. Closing his map, he continues heading towards the final battle region. Several more players are eliminated along the way from other contenders, as the remaining 8 are now tightly packed within the ever-shrinking battle zone. Entering the fierce firefight with a dramatic entrance, John lobs a pulse grenade at one of the focused combatants, ¡°luckily¡± landing it inside their box. The accompanying explosion rings out with a kill notification, as he fires more buckshot into the startled opponent. 5 Opponents remain in his HUD, as a stray bullet from the final tower wounds his avatar. GrimXXtato quickly reacts, snapping several walls in front of him before crouching to apply healing supplies to their wounded avatar. After their healing animation completes, John deletes his barriers, then begins climbing towards the tower by rapidly building a series of ramps and boxes to deflect the incoming bullet and rocket barrages. Reaching one of the destructible walls, John breeches the building¡¯s exterior with his melee weapon, before pivoting and entering through the window instead. His opponent is caught off guard from anticipating GrimXXtato¡¯s entrance as the wall, resulting in their elimination from some aptly placed pellets. John glances to the corner of his monitor, noticing he is one of the two remaining contenders for the battle. His heart pounds tightly against in his chest, as adrenalin begins coursing throughout his veins in anticipation for the final duel. Victory is within reach, but it won¡¯t be easy. Then, a small object gracefully flying through the air, entering through the recently breeched wall, brings John¡¯s focus back to the match, as he quickly recognizes it to be a plasma grenade. A containment box is built around the grenade, before John fires some blind shots out the nearby window towards the ground. His last remaining opponent ¡°boxes up¡± before rapidly building their own ramping tower towards him in retaliation. Wanting the final battle to test their mechanical skills, GrimXXtato leaps out the building into their own box tower, as the two contenders continue ascending towards the skybox with ramps and walls blocking each other¡¯s deadly placed shots. The ensuing battle is a blur to the viewers on John¡¯s stream, as him and his opponent, ReKtXD, are absorbed into their own disorienting duel of ascending tower shenanigans. In the span of only a few seconds, GrimXXtato and ReKtXD have already climbed over 12 stories in height, as they continue building and firing shots at one another. The battle region is now limited to the small enclosure around the tower, with the ground disappearing below them in the storm, forcing the combatants higher and higher in this absurd game of survival. Having reached 30 stories of height, with neither John or his opponent landing any decisive blows, the intense disorienting duel continues to the thousands of viewers spamming chat with wall emojis. Their swift actions cannot be followed by mere human eyes at this point, and is only possible due to both players mastery over their own reflexes and correctly anticipating each other¡¯s moves. On a more specific level, their actions have reached an instinctual response. They cannot afford to think, just do. More intense volleys take place, with John barely managing to graze ReKtXD through a tight opening. His opponent is wounded, but still has more HP than him, so it¡¯s only one of many tiny blows he will need to win their duel. Sitting up in his chair, utilizing an age-old technique to enhance one¡¯s focus, John shifts himself to sit higher and closer towards his monitor, as his fingers continue to dance across the keyboard. He hasn¡¯t blinked for close to a minute now, and his eyes are already beginning to scream for relief as they fight against the stinging sensation irritating them, when suddenly... ¡°Shit!¡± John¡¯s fingers slip while executing his ramp building climbing volley combo due to perspiration forming along his hands from the intense duel. The misplaced keystrokes cause a brief error message across his screen, forcing John to scramble and correct his inputs. But he¡¯s not quick enough. ReKtXD notices the slight mistake from his opponent, taking full advantage of GrimXXtato¡¯s opening, landing a clean headshot on his avatar through the narrow opening of the ascending box tower. Annoyed at his own mistake, John quickly slams the corner of his desk while ripping his headset off in frustration. He had been so close to winning the match, despite the overwhelming odds against him. Then, pushing himself away from his desk, he rolls back in his chair, spinning around several times on the wheels while rubbing his twitching eyes for some relief. His chat window has exploded into walls of ¡°GGs¡±, ¡°lolz¡±, and tombstone emojis at his defeat, but he¡¯s not angry, just annoyed at his own personal mistake. Rolling his chair back towards his computer, John begins mashing his spacebar to skip through the personal ¡°highlights¡± reel, and quickly slams the esc key to close the skull and crossbones blanketing his screen. He has already been streaming Fork Knife for several hours now, and the numerous high intensity matches have already drained his ability to focus. With his right leg bouncing up and down, and his body gradually calming down from the adrenalin boost moments ago, John happily smacks his hands together after reviewing the match summary screen for the battle royale. While he didn¡¯t place 1st in the Fork Knife match, he confidently finished in 2nd place, which ended up awarding him just enough rating to officially break into the top 10 players for the North American gaming servers. Pleased at his acceptable performance, John quickly skims through the endless wall of chat¡¯s messages while responding to some viewers. An interesting snippet catches his eye, as chat was briefly discussing how scientists observed thousands of strange meteors falling across the globe last night, with some observers reporting strange sightings of giant robots in their wake. John doesn¡¯t pay too much attention to the tangent, since chat is known to troll more often than not, but still responds to their comments anyways. From his experience, it¡¯s best not to think too deeply about chat and its antics. Chat is chat, and that¡¯s all he needs to know as a somewhat popular streamer for Fork Knife. Satisfied he has done enough streaming, John stares at his computer¡¯s clock, as it happens to change to 9:00pm, and decides now would be an appropriate time for a break, and subsequent energy boosting reward. Closing his streaming while grabbing his wallet and phone, John briefly admires the displayed army of plushies and action figures along his computer room wall, before bounding from his rolling chair towards the apartment¡¯s door. Then, fumbling with the pair of keys kept on the nearby kitchen counter, John energetically opens the door while scrambling to throw on a sweater they had hastily grabbed to ward off the slight chill from an early fall¡¯s crisp night. Residing on the 8th floor of the condominium unit, John taps the button on the nearby elevator before pulling out their phone to begin scrolling through the various social media posts that had accumulated throughout the day. They had often wondered if taking the stairs would be faster, but still ended up choosing the elevator for the convenience of more phone time. Eventually, after liking and catching up on some posts, John pops his earbuds in, shuffles their rock mix playlist, then tunes out the world as he rides the elevator to the bottom floor. Prepared for his break, he happily exits the condominium building, while his mind flashes through the events of the recent Fork Knife battle. The walk is relatively peaceful, as he passes by several people along the way, all absorbed in their own world with their phones. It¡¯s just another plain, ordinary night to the adult as they continue their journey for caffeine. John wonders if he¡¯ll be able to continue his Fork Knife career as a streamer, since he¡¯s technically a ¡°pro¡± now. He¡¯s happy with the growth of his streaming audience, and is able to afford living on his own at his age through his online revenue. He doesn¡¯t earn millions, but its enough to afford the mortgage and modest living expenses he incurs. It has always been a dream of his to earn a living playing video games, and after many years of practice and perseverance, he finally sees ¡°some¡± amount of success in his chosen life style. Regardless, John brushes these thoughts aside as he swings open the doors to his favourite coffee shop while getting ready to order. Briefly scanning the menu as a formality, having already decided on his beverage of choice well before arriving at the Jim Hortons, John opens the app on his phone as he places an order for an iced cappuccino at the nearby counter. Completing the transaction by scanning his phone, he calmly waits to the side as the attendant unenthusiastically begins making his beverage of choice. Then, with the reward received, he happily takes a sip from the crisp and chilled beverage, feeling a surge of enjoyment as the sugar and caffeine molecules jolt his mind with satisfaction. It doesn¡¯t take long for John to begin heading back towards his condo unit, the night is still young, and he figures he can squeeze several more hours in of streaming once he¡¯s recharged from the newly acquired beverage. However, John¡¯s eyes are suddenly ripped from his phone, as he stumbles upon hearing a loud crash and explosion in the distance. Having just passed the nearby gas station, John stares towards his residence with eyes bordering on the lines of shock and disbelief, as a giant robot roughly the size of a house, lobs a bus into the building, causing a modest explosion and chunks of concrete to fly onto the street below. The giant chunk of metal, which appears to be shaped like some kind of ape, continues charging down the road, as John notices another large robot they appear to be chasing. Screams from the nearby civilians and subsequent shockwave rattle his ears over the already excessively loud music he¡¯s playing, as he stops to rationalize what is currently happening. ¡°What in the actual hell...¡± utters John in complete disbelief at the scene before him. He briefly wonders if this is some kind of weird fever dream he¡¯s currently experiencing, having actually passed out in his apartment back home. There¡¯s is no way giant robots exist, outside the world of science fiction and anime of course, and he definitely hasn¡¯t taken any psychedelics that he¡¯s aware of. Briefly looking down at his iced cap, John wonders if the attendant slipped something into his drink. Everything seems real, but he¡¯s still can¡¯t believe what¡¯s happening. Cars are rapidly piling up on the street ahead of him, with many bystanders pulling out their phones to record footage of the wreckage happening in real time, while others continue shrieking and fleeing in a panic. His face goes pale, as he makes the executive decision, to head back towards the coffee shop for safety. Quickly turning and running as fast as they can, John begins their sprint back towards the Jim Hortons, as the sound of sirens become audible over the chorus of screams and carnage. Several people are already outside the building taking photos as John joins them on the sidewalk. Taking out his phone, John snaps a few photos and videos himself, before switching over to his web browser to begin searching for something to explain an apparent giant robot attack in his city. The internet is flooded with webpages, videos, and blogs discussing the appearance of large robotic creatures that look like animals, battling across the globe. Many news agencies are already reporting thousands of civilian casualties, as amateur footage continues to flood all of his social media feeds. John¡¯s hand is shaking uncontrollably as it struggles to continue holding his phone. The world appears to be going through chaos, with what his mind can only assume, is a robotic alien invasion across the planet. His mind continues racing, with his breathing laboured, as he struggles to accept what is happening before him. This clearly isn¡¯t an elaborate internet hoax, having personally witnessed one of the robots himself, but it still doesn¡¯t feel real. Violently shocking and bringing John back to reality, is another explosion that feels too close for comfort. Dropping his phone, John looks up to see the gas station he was at moments ago, burst into flames, as a giant ape-like robot leaps from the plume of fire, shielding something in its arms. The being then continues barrelling down the road, ignorantly crushing cars along the way, towards his direction. Fear takes over John¡¯s body, as his fight or flight response desperately screams at him to run for his life. Anywhere is safer than here, he just needs to leave... Now. Scrambling to grab his cellular device, John breaks into another sprint, crossing the highway behind the coffee shop, ignoring all of the stopped traffic and bystanders still attempting to captures videos of the strange encounter. Ahead of him, is a forest, one he has often gone to for walks and jogs in his spare time, and his mind currently says is the safest place. Branches and bushes scrap his face as he continues running with no clear objective in mind, oblivious to the pained cries from his lungs and numbness growing throughout his legs. Adrenalin is fueling his desire for survival, providing a fitting substitute for the coffee he dropped after entering the dark forest¡¯s rough pathway. Finally, after several minutes of running and failing to hear anymore explosions or cries from others, John stops in his tracks, before crouching over to bring some sense of relief to his dying lungs. His legs wobble and collapse onto the earthy ground from the strain, as he continues struggling to catch his breath. ¡°There are actually aliens. Real. Living. Aliens.¡± The words softly escaping his lips in disbelief. ¡°What the hell do I actually do?!?¡±. [Someone, anyone, help me... Please... I don¡¯t... Want... To...] ¡°Gah!!¡± A loud, distorted tone rings throughout John¡¯s earbuds, causing him to clutch his head in pain. He thinks it was something asking for help, but he is so disoriented, he fully collapses onto the forest¡¯s floor, with leaves crunching as they break his fall. The ringing noise continues to crackle and buzz throughout his ears, an inaudible tone rattling his already flustered mind. John violently rips his earbuds out, as the electronics continue to buzz and rattle on the ground, seemingly having a mind of their own. John continues trying to control their breathing in an effort to calm themselves. The ringing has finally stopped assaulting his eardrums, as rational thoughts once again begin to flood his mind. A bitter wind is blowing all around him, and he has only just now noticed an expansive fog creeping into the forest. He remembers running away from a giant robot, but only now realized that fleeing into a forest at nighttime, probably wasn¡¯t his wisest decision. John quietly apologises to the many protagonists in T.V. shows he has made fun of for making similar irrational decision during emergency situations, as he always believed they were dumb for doing so. Low and behold, he has just done something similarly stupid in a panic, contextualizing his own erratic behaviour. Looking up, lightly illuminating the foggy horizon, John spots an eerie red light in the distance. It immediately reminds him of something from a lighthouse tower, as it continues rotating around. The light is clearly out of place for a forest such as this, but its only one of many strange events that has happened to him lately this chaotic night. Deciding that he has nothing to lose at this point, John succumbs to his own curiosity, as he slowly begins approaching the alluring light drawing him in. As he gets closer, recent damage to the forest becomes painfully obvious to the human, as several uprooted and broken trees create an ominous path forward. Then, after climbing over a modest hill, John¡¯s jaw drops open, as he finally sees the apparent source of the red light. Resting in a newly formed crater, appears to be another large robotic creature. It is smaller than the ape-like one he observed earlier, only being roughly the size of a pickup truck, but still abnormal. Its condition is clearly not pristine, as limbs, wires, and a strange blue glowing liquid surround the pile of metal in an unnatural display. Sparks are gleefully flying out of the unit¡¯s legs, as John recognizes the robot to vaguely resemble some type of canine or wolf-like creature. The body of the being is mostly crushed, with a hind limb completely missing. Oblivious to the curious human, the ominous red light in question calmly continues oscillating above the being¡¯s ¡°head¡±, in gleeful ignorance to a potential saviour nearby. John continues examining the robot from a safe distance, well, as safe as he assumes safe would be in such a situation, before noticing another large and strange object crudely embedded in another distant hill. ¡°Is that... A spacecraft?¡± he gasps in disbelief. It looks roughly like a deep-sea diving vessel to the human, something that you would use to navigate the impossible pressures along the oceans floor, and, looks very out of place in a forest such as this. It¡¯s about the size of a bus, and appears unnaturally ¡°perfect¡± inside the rough crater. Deciding he has nothing really to lose, and, against his better judgement, John cautiously approaches the wolf-like robot. Leaves and twigs crunch underneath John¡¯s feet, as the being appears much larger than he expected, now being mere feet away from the lumbering metal monstrosity. Continuing to carefully avoiding the blue goop seeping into the ground, John cautiously approaches the wolf-like robot when suddenly. ¡°Ouch! What the heck!¡± A thin, black cable, launches itself from the robot¡¯s arm, embedding itself into John¡¯s hand. He quickly recoils at the sudden pain, trying to rip the cable from his limb, but he can¡¯t. A loud ringing noise fills his mind again, but he¡¯s unable to make sense of the words. Everything is distorted and the uncomfortable sound of ¡°static¡± interrupts his thoughts from its disorienting noise, forcing him onto the ground. Then, just as suddenly as the tone appeared, the ringing stops, as John feels his pocket vibrate. While still struggling to free his hand from the cable, John removes the phone from his pocket, nearly dropping it after reading the text message scrolling across the screen. [Help me... Please...] John looks up at the robot, then back to his hand with the newly attached cable. The red light that had been continuing to illuminate the crash site, is gradually glowing dimmer, and is slowing in intensity. He has just received a strange text message asking for help, and, based on the recent series of events, is probably related to the cable presently fused with his hand. He is actually able to understand the message, and assumes it is the robot trying to communicate with him. Figuring he has nothing to lose, as he can¡¯t even leave the nearby vicinity due to the restraining cable, John briefly hesitates, before tapping a simple message back to the mysterious sender. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. [¡°How?¡±] The message sends without issue, as a pair of ellipsis suddenly appear at the bottom of the phone¡¯s screen, indicating a potential incoming response. John¡¯s eyes continue to widen as he observes the new message filling the chat window with the accompanying vibration. [Nearby Landing Pod Detected. Estimated High Probability Of Replacement Parts. Energy Levels Critical. Please... Help...] [¡°What am I looking for?¡±] [Container... Blue Fluid... Energy...] [¡°I can¡¯t with this cable attached to me. Let me go.¡±] [Promise... Help...? Please... I don¡¯t... Want... To... Die...] John pauses before drafting his response. He believes he is currently talking with the robot in front of him, and it is asking him for help, although struggling to do so. The robot believes it will die if it doesn¡¯t receive energy soon, which looks painfully obvious to any bystander seeing its condition. However, the thought of a robot being concerned about death is abnormal to John. Robots are machines, and this... Thing... Appears to be a sentient creature of some sort. Alien is the best description he decides, but he always assumed they would be greys or something like that from the countless conspiracy shows he¡¯s jokingly watched on the topic of extraterrestrials. Noticing the light was continuing to dim, John quietly taps his response back to the abnormal creature before him. [¡°Yes.¡±] After receiving the message, the cable attached to his hand is suddenly released, dropping into a shimmering puddle of the glowing blue goop around the robot. Having finally freed themselves from their captor, John quickly turns around, and begins running away as fast as he can from the battered machine. Branches violently scratch his face as he continues running as fast as he can away from the mysterious alien. He had almost died earlier, and immediately regretted his decision to investigate the robot when it embedded the cable in his hand, trapping him. But, as he continued to run, his chest felt a different kind of heavy, prompting him to stop his logical choice to flee. He had no obligation to save the being, considering it had rudely trapped him with a strange cable, but he still turned to face towards the mangled structure of metal in the distance. He promised to help the machine, and it freed him after receiving his confirmation. An alien, was trusting him to help it, and the first thing he did once he regained his freedom, was run away in fear. ¡°Damn it all... Am I really doing this?!?¡± he cursed under his breath, as a crisp fog clung to the air around his words. John hated his conscious for making him doubt his decision to run for his life, but at the same time, couldn¡¯t ignore the guilt tugging at his heart. Annoyingly resolved, John begins running back towards the robot, then climbs the nearby hill to investigate the mysterious spacecraft. The red light atop the machine¡¯s head has completely faded by this point, with the only visible source of light being the faintly glowing blue fluid growing along the cracked ground. Hastily climbing over several rocks and broken tree trunks, John finally manages to reach the base of the expansive craft. His eyes quickly scan the vicinity for anything resembling a container and fluid. He assumes it will probably be blue, as he mentally connects the liquid to be something similar to blood for humans. It makes the most sense at the time, and is helping keep his eyes focused as he continues to search through the foreign surroundings. Cables and large chunks of metal are also scattered the landing site, but appear to be in much better condition than the robot he has just conversed with. There are several large puddles of green and blue fluids surround the craft in an ominous glow, which John does his best to carefully avoid. He isn¡¯t sure if the goop is harmful, but doesn¡¯t want to find out either way, as he continues sifting through the area for some type of container. Finally, after several minutes of trying to categorize and sort the alien technology before him, John spots a cracked bottle, roughly the size of a propane tank, containing some of the mysterious blue fluid. It¡¯s roughly a quarter full, with most of the contents having already spilled onto the ground, but its better than nothing. He wonders why the robot couldn¡¯t just absorb the fluid already along the ground, but what does he know about alien technology. After carefully grabbing the container, John begins running back towards the robotic wolf while scanning the horizon. As he approaches, no noise or cables spontaneously assault him, as the being continues to lie motionless in a puddle of its own conductive fluids. The sparks have mostly stopped crackling, and John wonders for a moment if the creatures has already died due to his hesitation earlier. Shaking his head, John returns to the area where the cable first attached to his hand, then ponders how he should administer the fluid to the robotic alien. Would dumping it over its head work? Is there some kind of fuel intake port? What about the cable from earlier? Failing to find any kind of obvious repository for the container, John eventually decides to grab the black cable and place it inside the container of mostly pure, sparkling fluid. There is a brief pause, as nothing appears to happen from his actions. The cable is just calmly floating around in its new bath of sparkling goop, blissfully unaware of any actions it should be taking. John feels some regret over his recent actions towards the being. The alien seemed to have emotions, much like a human. Its words carried an air of despair, and it wanted to avoid dying at all costs. It had trusted him to do the right thing, and he betrayed that trust for his own selfish survival. ... Was it selfish of him to think about himself? Any reasonable person would have prioritized their own survival given his situation... Right? ... John¡¯s gaze drifts towards the ground, as nothing appears to be happening. It appears he wasn¡¯t able to help the alien in time, and it has succumbed to the injuries it received. That is, until a low rumble jolts his attention towards the canister. His eyes widen, twitching with a sense of relief. The container he had recently placed the cable in, is empty. More hums and rumbles shake the ground around him, as lights, sensors, and cables, all attempt to reorient themselves around the giant robot. Powerful orange lights come to life inside the creature¡¯s head, as the ear-like features begin to twitch and creek with newfound energy. The being then attempts to move, shifting slightly before lightly crashing into the ground again, knocking John onto his rear in surprise. Then, it speaks to him in a distorted tone he can somewhat understand. ¡°Tha... You... Homo... Sapien... My name is.... F.O.X. and I am an... Advanced intelligence.¡± John¡¯s surprised at the creature speaking to him. He can actually understand the words now, and it appears the alien knows how to communicate in English of all things. He didn¡¯t pay much attention to it when he responded through his phone, but somehow, he can understand the strange being before him. ¡°Hi.¡± John nervously responds. ¡°My name is John, and I¡¯m a human. What happened to you?¡± his voice shaking slightly, rationalizing he is currently talking with a giant, unearthly robot. The alien pauses slightly, as more and more lights spring to life across its body with accompanying hums and chirps. Sparks continue to crackle and snap from the exposed wirings, as it once again attempts to lift itself, fortunately succeeding. ¡°I was... Attacked... Battle royale... Fighting.¡± Chirped the machine, as it continued struggling to support its frail frame. ¡°Wa... A battel royale?!?¡± gasped John, seemingly hearing a word he never would have expected from a robotic alien. ¡°Yes.¡± Beeped the machine in a low tone. ¡°I am... Fighting for survival. G.O.R... Enemy.¡± John brings his hand to rest underneath his chin. G.O.R. Perhaps that is the name for another robotic alien? Could that potentially be the ape-like being he saw earlier? F.O.X. attempts to move towards the spacecraft, stumbling across the ground, before collapsing again into a nearby pile of fluids. ¡°Hey, take it easy!¡± yells John as some of the blue goop lands across his sweater. ¡°Let me get whatever it is you need.¡± The machine glances towards John before letting out a low rumble in response. ¡°Please. Any metal will suffice.¡± John quickly climbs the nearby hill again towards the spacecraft. He has seemingly just help revive a giant robot, and has agreed to help it after feeling sorry for the being. He always imagined an encounter with aliens would be different, but for now, he¡¯s willing to do what he can for the mysterious creature. Searching the wreckage, he finds some large metal beams which are ¡°mostly¡± unbent and grabs them. He is surprised at how light the material is, since he¡¯s able to effectively carry it without too many issues. After returning to the robot, F.O.X. gestures towards one of its missing limbs, prompting John to place the beam nearby. In response, several black cables and circuits shoot out from the robot¡¯s body, grabbing and welding the metallic beam to its missing appendage. The metal warps and contorts before John¡¯s eyes, magically transforming into a fully functional limb with accompanying paw. John is speechless, as there is no plausible way the small metal beam could have possible grown and created a leg shape with such little material. Rubbing his eyes, while continuing to stare at the robot magically repairing itself, F.O.X. begins stumbling towards the wreckage site for more supplies. Curious, John follows the robot closely behind, being careful to avoid becoming a human pancake. The being scans the spacecraft with some sensors while continuing to collect parts and goop floating around the wreckage. ¡°Is... This your ship?¡± quietly asks John in confusion. ¡°No... Not mine. Another warrior¡¯s.¡± The robot¡¯s response echoes in a clearer tone to the human, as most of its systems have now reached an appropriate operable level. The robot continues repairing itself, much to the shocked expressions John¡¯s face is unconsciously making, personally witnessing such alien technology in action. F.O.X.¡¯s frame had somehow transformed itself from a riddled and bent structure, into an almost perfectly restored image of a canine. John eventually pieces together that it appears to be modeled after a fox, once he combines the name, along with the red and orange hues glowing across the now shimmering exterior. Eventually, he finds the courage to ask the robot more about the ¡°battle royale¡± it had briefly mentioned to him. In a series of rumbles and chirps, the alien known as F.O.X., explains to John the circumstances surrounding the Xinos battle royale tournament, and how they are currently being hunted by another warrior named G.O.R. Apparently, they are Xinos warrior from the Xyfokit race, which was one of the many species brought under rule of the Xinos empire. Continuing with their explanation, the intelligence briefly delved into their experience thus far on Earth, and once again thanked John for their assistance. It had feared the looming threat of deletion, and its sensors were now overcome with relief, finding themselves in a much better state of repair. John responds with curiosity towards the alien, and is able to follow along relatively well, since the Xinos battle royale seems startling familiar to the game of Fork Knife he is so accustomed to, minus the bonding system functionality. ¡°And this bond with a human is critical for your survival?¡± John asks as they continue trying to absorb this apparent information dump. ¡°Yes¡±. Beeped the Xinos. ¡°Our advanced weapon systems are severely limited, and bonding will potentially unlock some of these restrictions.¡± ¡°Doesn¡¯t that mean I could help?¡± replied the gamer. ¡°I don¡¯t want to brag, but I¡¯m pretty confident in my battle royale skills.¡± ¡°Ill-advised.¡± Retorted the machine to the confident human. ¡°Scans indicate a poor compatibility score with the homo sapien known as ¡°John¡±, with readings of 0.3% estimated on bonding¡±. John furrowed his brow before responding to the apparently disappoint score he held. ¡°And we¡¯re obviously not playing by golf rules, right?¡± ¡°Golf?¡± whooped the machine in confusion. ¡°Never mind.¡± Replied John lightly shaking his head at the machine¡¯s response. ¡°Regardless, think you¡¯ll survive against this Gor thing?¡±. After processing his question, the robotic fox¡¯s ears folded back, while its tail went lame. For as alien as the creature was, its response was painfully obvious to the gamer that it didn¡¯t feel confident in its survival odds. Then, just as John was about to respond to the depressed being, he was suddenly knocked to the side from a lash of their cables. John violently coughs from the sudden assault, as he is thrown onto the ground, crashing into several sharp rocks and branches during his sporadic tumble. He feels dizzy from the impact, and notices blood across his hand when he wipes his forehead. He thinks the machine has just tried to murder him after receiving his aid, but quickly realizes the opposite, after noticing a large crater where he had been standing just moments before. Another shot rings out, as John once again, finds himself violently flung into the air, except this time, on top of the robotic being known as F.O.X. He¡¯s still disoriented, but is slowly piecing together that something had just tried to kill him, and the alien, just saved his life. While still pinned to the robot¡¯s back, the being quickly begins bounding through the forest, as shot after shot continues to sunder the air towards their direction. Several shots come uncomfortably close to John¡¯s head, as F.O.X. gracefully leaps between the trees and boulders of the forest, sloppily dodging the incoming assault, with no obvious direction in mind. G.O.R. had somehow managed to find them, and for some reason, was intent on eliminating the human next to them. John was innocent during all of this, having not even bonded with the unit, with his only blight being helping the Xyfokit survive a system shutdown by delivering critical fluid supplies just in time. In a sense, the machine felt an obligation to protect the human, as it would currently be dead without their intervention. ¡°What the hell is going on?!?¡± screams John, as he continues struggling to recover from the jerky and intense ride throughout the forest. ¡°It¡¯s G.O.R.¡± blares the Xinos with a tinge of fear blanketing its tone. ¡°It appears they are trying to eliminate you after helping me.¡± ¡°Well, can¡¯t you fire back?!?!¡± yelled the human in a panic. ¡°You¡¯re a giant robot, surely you can return some kind of projectile!!¡±. ¡°My... My systems are weak.¡± Whirled the Xyfokit. ¡°I... Can¡¯t... I Couldn¡¯t.¡± *Schwoon!* ¡°Gah!¡± Another bullet dangerously flew by the human, violently shattering the bark of the tree ahead, sending an army of wooden splinters towards his direction. F.O.X. banks to the right in response, shielding John from most of the sharp shrapnel with its body instead. ¡°Would bonding help?!?! Wouldn¡¯t that boost your systems?!?¡± screams John, as some of the shrapnel maims his arm, sending a sharp array of pain coursing throughout his body. ¡°You... Shouldn¡¯t... I¡¯m... I can¡¯t¡ª¡± ¡°I don¡¯t care! The way I see it, I¡¯m dead either way, so we might as well try!¡± The human¡¯s words startle the panicking Xyfokit. It had already explained to John the dangers of forming a bond, and with their pitiful compatibility score, it was incomprehensible to even consider such a thing. Its best odds for survival, were to clearly find another human with a higher score. But, as illogical as his words seemed to be, F.O.X. wanted to place their trust in the inferior human. They had already managed to save them from certain death, and, with G.O.R. seemingly intent on eliminating them as well, agreed with the reasoning to try anyways. Any boost to performance, no matter how small, was better than zero boost. Black cables shoot out from behind the robot¡¯s neck, latching onto John¡¯s hand again, as words and sounds enter his confused and startled mind. As startling as the sensation is, he is fortunately able to make sense of them. It¡¯s very familiar to when he was first captured by the machine, except this time, words are clearly floating in front of his eyes, like images from a hyper-realistic augmented reality device, asking him to confirm and form a bond with the unit known as F.O.X. Unsure how to actually accept the agreement, John thinks in his head ¡°Accept¡±, which seems to do the trick. A slight shock tingles throughout his body, followed by nothing else abnormal. ¡°See, I told you it wouldn¡¯t mean anything.¡± Hummed the Xyfokit as it continued to dodge the spherical bullets sent its way. The machine¡¯s analysis, had been brutally accurate. Their combat systems appeared to be receiving a 0.3% boost to mobility and weapons functions, which essentially translated into a... Negligible gain in overall performance. ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± mumbled John, wondering if there was something he had missed regarding the procedure. ¡°I already said, the bonds been for¡ª¡± *Schoon!* The Xinos flinched, interrupting its response to the recently bonded human, as its leg was unfortunately grazed by one of the fired bullets. No critical injuries were received, but the blow startled the machine, bringing its focus back to dodging and weaving through the rapidly passing trees. Why did it listen to the human?! Now, it was in even greater danger if the human perished while fleeing, guaranteeing their death from the bond breaking penalties. John¡¯s mind finally begins registering everything that¡¯s happening. It almost feels like they can think a little faster. A part of their conscious seems to be connected with the robot, as emotions of fear begin swelling within him. The synthetic creature is frightened, and the feeling is eerily flowing into him as well. John is by no means calm himself, literally riding atop a giant robot, with bullets the size of baseballs flying by him every couple of seconds, but the sensation is still jarring. While the situation is the classic definition of ¡°feeling hopeless¡±, a crazy idea suddenly crosses his mind, as he recognizes the end of the forest coming into view. ¡°Fox, we need to leave the forest!¡± He screams to the machine attempting to pivot to remain within the covered terrain. ¡°Leave!?!? Straight ahead is only open fields, it¡¯s a literal death sentence if we lose our cover!¡± The intelligence whirled back in a sharp, abrupt tone. ¡°Do you trust me??! I¡¯ve got an idea that just might work.¡± Beamed the bonded human, as more and more bullets flew by their direction. F.O.X. hesitated at John¡¯s words. They were an incredibly powerful, highly intelligent, and perfect machine within the Xinos empire, with their decision network trained on over 1 quadrillion hours of combat footage. Leaving cover was the worst possible decision they could make according to their data stores, yet their bonded human was insisting they try due to a plan they had. ¡°That¡¯s... It¡¯s not logical!¡± roared the machine again in frustration. ¡°That¡¯s exactly the point!¡± exclaimed John as he slammed the metal along the Xinos back. ¡°If you¡¯re anything like our opponent, they would never expect something so illogical!¡± The Xyfokit¡¯s eyes widened at the human¡¯s words. Of course! What better way to outsmart your opponent, than to make such a foolish decision, they would immediately question your motives doing something as reckless as this! A small smirk grew across the machines face, as it happily beeped its reply to the human. ¡°Alright John, I¡¯m trusting you!¡±. Pivoting hard and to the right, the machine skillfully shifted their entire frame, leaning heavily into the dirt, before kicking up massive mounds of grass and soil to leap out of the trees into the open grassy plane. G.O.R.¡¯s shot had completely missed them from this unexpected action, having already been aimed way off to the left instead, the logical choice. Grunting in frustration, the favoured contender quickly reacts, adjusting to the unexpected change in its prey¡¯s trajectory, swiftly following suit. Dashing across the planes at incredible speeds, the Xyfokit is starting to have some doubts about the human¡¯s supposed action plan. There is absolutely no cover they can utilizes to dodge incoming projectiles, forcing them to rely purely on their own reaction capabilities. The only noticeable features across the expansive planes, are some large, metal framed structures with numerous wirings traveling above them in an endless maze of order. After a quick analysis from the machine, it appears the structures are utilized by the apex species to transport their primitive form of electricity. ¡°There! Towards the powerlines, quickly!¡± yells John as he continues to shift around, struggling to stay oriented along his metal chariot. ¡°The powerlines?? But, those are carrying high voltage energy. My simulations indicate they are highly dangerous.¡± Beeped the machine, qualm heavily lingering in their mellow tones. ¡°It¡¯s all part of the plan! We just have to get that giant robot near them!¡± John¡¯s voice was filled with a mixture of excitement and confidence, with some of his emotions flowing over into F.O.X. from the overwhelming positive response. Images of countless virtual battles soared through the machine¡¯s visual receptors and sensors, which they identified to be memories from the human they bonded with. Highlights from thousands of battles, each with minor variations and strategies, at every possible starting point across an expansive battleground in a virtual world. Similar metal structures appeared to be present, and actively used as a means of eliminating opponents. The machine¡¯s conscious easily made sense of the data flowing across its processors, as it happily chirped its response back to the human. ¡°Got it! I... I think I understand what you¡¯re aiming for!¡± ¡°It¡¯s weird, but I think I¡¯m starting to understand this bonding thing as well.¡± John said as he happily smacked the side of the advanced robot again. ¡°It¡¯s a long shot, but I think it just might work!¡± ¡°Agreed!¡± hummed the Xyfokit, their thoughts gradually overflowing with confidence. Straight ahead, they had already calculated the battleplan John had envisioned. Now, all they needed, was a little bit of that thing called ¡°luck¡± to make it happen. In sync with their human, while continuing to dodge G.O.R.¡¯s bullets with grace, the Xyfokit continued sprinting towards the strange metallic towers, with their adversary close behind. The pair has finally entered the area underneath the sprawling wires, and purposefully slowed down to ensure the robotic ape was in range for their upcoming plan. F.O.X. continues to skillfully weave between the metal structures, causing G.O.R. to lengthen the interval between their shots to ensure higher accuracy. Then, satisfied the hunter had been lured in far enough, the intelligence decided now was the perfect time to implement their spontaneous, illogical plan. Digging its paws aggressively deep into the ground, snapping some of its suspension cables from the intense strain, F.O.X. pivots hard to the left while chucking John off of its back, sending him flying into the field behind him. G.O.R. notices the Xyfokit¡¯s error, and immediately changes course to eliminate the human their opponent had bonded with, as this action would ensure their victory over the infuriating, agile warrior. However, just as G.O.R. shifts their weight to reposition their firearm, their warning sensors briefly alert them to an incoming threat they are unable to dodge. Turning to face the opponent they had confidently decided to ignore, G.O.R. notices the Xyfokit¡¯s paw is extended in the air, with some of its basic combat blades missing from the appendage. However, while they were potentially expecting a steel blade to be sent their direction, a thick, black cable, arcing powerful beams of electricity is observed instead. They had assumed their opponent would only utilize the weapon systems they were given, and not the external environment itself. G.O.R.¡¯s heavy and unbalanced frame is unable to move, having already committed to its earlier attack. Their network panics, as it struggles to find any solution to deal with the incoming high voltage wiring. The wire crashes into the bewildered warrior, as powerful arcs of electricity course throughout its highly conductive body. While the Xinos are primarily powered through an efficient conductive fluid named Xytrolyte, their synthetic bodies are equally capable of transmitting inefficient forms of electricity as well. However, while G.O.R. themselves is highly conductive, the excess voltage ripping throughout their body isn¡¯t their primary concern. It''s their humans. Highly volatile electricity measuring over 100,000 volts, arcs and flows throughout the unit¡¯s metal frame, as its Xytrolyte fluids struggle to balance the excessive load in time. While the highly advanced unit would normally only be briefly ¡°stunned¡± from such an encounter, an army of ¡°WARNING¡± messages suddenly blares across their visual receptors, as numerous systems rapidly begin failing under an excessive barrage of errors and penalties. [BOND BROKEN ¨C ENFORCING PENALTY] floods their monitor, as they are suddenly unable to move their limbs. Checking their connection cable with the bonded human, G.O.R. is horrified to see the apex predator they had confidently bonded with, has exploded into a charred array of blackened, scorched viscera. Their cable is still embedded into the human¡¯s wrist bone, as the hand ominously continues to hold the black tether that had granted both of them an incredible combat advantage just moments ago. G.O.R. collapses inward on themselves, unable to power their heavy frame, as F.O.X. completes their landing before dashing towards them. The warrior fights against the impossible resistance, breaking and tearing its own limbs in an effort to shield itself from the incoming assault, redirecting any excess power it still controls, to erect a barrier around its central core in desperation. Even in this state, they could still protect themselves from any projectile the tiny Xyfokit could fire towards its direction. A timer indicating 20 seconds remaining on the penalty begins ticking down in the corner of G.O.R.¡¯s vision. The unit smiles, it only needs to survive these meager 20 seconds, before it can turn the tables against what it thought was an inconsequential prey. Nothing the Xyfokit can do, can harm it. F.O.X. rapidly begins accelerating towards the disabled warrior. A notification has briefly popped up in their peripheral vision indicating they have earned a bonus, as a timer begins counting down, communicating how long the unit ahead of them is disabled for. The Xyfokit has several options they could choose from for ending this battle to the death, as they reload their cannon for the finishing blow. They notice G.O.R. has redirected all of its remaining power into an efficient barrier to protect its central core from cannon fire, but the tiny warrior has already committed its final attack based on the most probable outcome. Their claws extend from their sheaths, boosting the unit¡¯s traction and acceleration further, 10 seconds remain on the penalty, as energy begins forming inside their cannon. The barrier around G.O.R.¡¯s core grows in intensity, the correct response to the Xyfokit¡¯s actions, as it continues barrelling towards the robotic ape. 5 Seconds remain, as the unit throws every remaining bit of its energy into its powerful hind legs, catapulting its sleek frame forward into the lumbering intelligence. A smirk grows across G.O.R.¡¯s face, as a light begins to glow around F.O.X.¡¯s cannons. In a moment, they would turn the tables against their prey and finish this frustrating battle against an infuriating and lesser foe. Or so they thought. A sharp, bitter pain begins growing throughout the unit¡¯s central core, as its eyes widened in shock from the unexpected agony coursing throughout its circuits. Viscous, blue fluid happily bursts from the unit¡¯s bulky chest, as its visual processors struggle to focus on the Xyfokit below it. Piercing its chest, with its steel blades for claws vibrating at a frequency just fast enough to mimic simple vibroblades, is F.O.X. They had seemingly penetrated their advanced barrier systems using their melee weapons, after tricking the unit into thinking they were firing a round from their advanced cannons instead. Raged roared throughout G.O.R.¡¯s expansive and perfect decision network. How could it have been tricked? Everything about it, was perfect, yet it somehow failed to stop such a simple, yet illogical attack from its prey?!? This was an impossible outcome to the unit, as it felt the Xyfokit continue digging its claws deeper into its chest cavity, rending and tearing its circuits further. G.O.R. knew their power would fail at any moment now. They wanted to scream, to yell, to violently toss the being away, to assert their dominance over them as the strongest warrior in the Xinos army, but they couldn¡¯t. Words couldn¡¯t leave their auditory processors, and their network failed to respond to their repeated requests to move. All they could do, was stare into the eyes of their prey, as darkness gradually began creeping in along their expansive vision. They weren¡¯t meant to die; it was impossible for them to be deleted. The... The Xinos council had already confirmed them their victory in the tournament. Their vision waned, their retinas burning into them the final image they managed to process, the figure of a small canine creature, staring into their existence with hollow eyes, and their claws dug deep into their chest. Then, just before the unit lost the last remaining bits of its power, with its vision hovering on the cusp of darkness, their auditory processors heard one, finally comment from their killer, before everything ceased to function. ¡°Goodbye, G.O.R.¡± A Galactic Upset The expansive and perfect empire of the Xinos, a race of synthetic beings which has ruled the universe since its inception, is presently in a violent uproar from the bickering council members carefully observing the battle royale of galactic cycle 200,271. Round ¦Á has just concluded, and with it, an impossible scenario has just occurred to the perfect machines. All of the higher-ranking members visual processors are intently fixated on the cruel screen enlarged in the centre of their council chambers. While this monitor normally houses all of the visual feeds for every participating warrior, the furious members have instead focused it on the battle surrounding a tiny Xyfokit, and the strongest Xygornot. A small, canine predator from Earth, known as the Vulpes vulpes, has just viciously pierced the chest cavity of the ¡°to be¡± emperor, rupturing their central core, and officially eliminating them from the battle royale. It was already an accepted outcome by the highly intelligent machines, that their top and favoured contender, G.O.R., would easily clear the earlier rounds, before struggling, yet ultimately succeeding in the ¦¸ round. The Xinos data and analysis, were perfect, leaving zero margin for error amongst their calculations. However, they were all struggling to accept the impossible outcome they had just witnessed during the final elimination of round ¦Á, officially prompting the system to issue the non-combatant days message to all remaining warriors. While the endless chaos and bickering continued to flood the council chambers, the former emperor, Xylophos, calmly tapped their polygonal fingers together, while a multidimensional smirk manically grew across their facial monitor. Xylophos was curiously pleased as to the outcome they had just observed. They were never one for the brutal politics associated with being a higher-ranking member of the Xinos. After all, they were a warrior first and foremost, only ending up in the position of emperor after winning the previous cycle¡¯s battle royale, in their desperate struggle to survive. It was clear to the intelligence, after officially accepting the role of emperor, that their selection had always been a predetermined product amongst the machines, with them destined to have won that cycle¡¯s tournament. But, some part of their advanced processors wanted them to believe it was their own will to survive, which had led them to victory instead, and not some foregone conclusion amongst its elite members. Regardless as to their contemplation, the anger amongst the council members, was obvious, as Xylophos continued to calmly observe the scene before them. The Xinos, have no need for traditional currency, being a society focused purely on technological progress and expansion. However, while wealth is not defined by meaningless financial holdings, it is instead viewed through the Xinos social standing within the empire. As such, while it would normally be weird in a traditional sense, the Xinos have adopted a method to gamble, utilizing their rank in Xinos society, as the bargaining chips. Members would often stake their position in Xinos society, in an effort to break into the empire¡¯s inner group, or, simply advance their own social standing. This outcome, meant unprecedent changes were about to occur amongst the Xinos, as most of the inner elite had confidently gambled their positions of authority on the ¡°guaranteed¡± or orchestrated outcome, to ensure their position in the coming cycle. Being unaccustomed to losing such ¡°bets¡±, the senior machines were currently tossing circuits and transistors from across their desks in unbridled polygonal fury. ¡°NONSENSE!¡± Screamed a prism, as they threw several quantum entangled processors across the viewing chambers. ¡°That Xyfokit MUST have broken the rules in our doctrine! There is no way a lesser machine like them could have possibly bested the Xygornots strongest unit in battle!¡± ¡°I concur!¡± Roared a polyhedron amongst the crowd of rioting shapes in various dimensions. ¡°This breech of conduct must be investigated immediately, with no deletion of conscious until it¡¯s proven the Xyfokit has¡ª¡± ¡°Enough!¡± snapped Xylophos in a fit of rage against the arguing senior Xinos. ¡°It is for this exact reason, that our successions are completed through a battle royale. If G.O.R. was truly the most capable unit, they would have eliminated F.O.X. without issue. This outcome, is exactly what our race needs to continue evolving towards the path of perfection.¡± ¡°But G.O.R. had already known, and even bonded with the highest compatibility score human within a 2,000km radius of the landing zone! No other humans in the observable area were anywhere near a 60% compatibility rating! It¡¯s inconcei¡ª¡± ¡°Oh?¡± came an amused grin from the former emperor, interrupting the enraged shape, before bringing their polygonal fingers to rest against one another in contemplation. ¡°And how exactly, would G.O.R. have know that particular apex species had the highest score within the region, councillor? Is there some unknown disclosure we should be made aware of?¡± The emperor¡¯s words pierced the Xinos processors with its chilling tone, with many shuddering in fear of their implied meaning. It was obvious to the higher-ranking members, that sometimes information that shouldn¡¯t be transferred to their warriors during the battle royale, would ¡°slip through¡± their excessive communication firewalls. Corruption, and the illegal sharing of information, was well known to occur within the empire, with many of the councillors present, actively involved in some shape or form in these underhanded tactics. The motives were always entirely personal, usually in an effort to better their own race¡¯s standing amongst the Xinos. ¡°I¡ª That¡¯s!¡± ¡°I am not blind to what the inner circle has already decided for the succession games behind my back.¡± Their words echoing throughout the chambers in a cold and calculated tone. ¡°After all, I myself, am a product from such corrupt dealings.¡± Then, pausing to make sure all of the Xinos were aware of their former emperor¡¯s insight, Xylophos calmly entered the command in their quantum processors, to formally delete the Xinos conscious for the unit named G.O.R., much to the exasperated expressions of the council members. ¡°It should be no surprise why I chose to include ¡°luck¡±, else I fear there was never a need for our next emperors selection in the first place.¡± ¡°But, that Xyfokit was¡ª¡± ¡°Simply, the better warrior.¡± Bellowed Xylophos, before raising his appendage to command silence amongst the Xinos. ¡°This objection and blatant disregard for our doctrine, is hereby finished. We will no longer discuss the existence known as G.O.R. Now then, let us resume reviewing and confirming the results from round ¦Á to ensure we are all in agreeance.¡± Then, readjusting the light refracting from their proudly displayed central core, Xylophos promptly carrier their intended conversation forward with the machines in attendance. ¡°67,803 Xinos warriors have already been eliminated across the battleground world, with P.L.T. currently having the highest confirmed kill count of 20 logged in our systems.¡± At the former emperor¡¯s words, complimentary footage began playing throughout the chambers, showcasing the multiple brutal annihilations completed by the popular warrior, as Xylophos bluntly paused their summations to observe the recordings as well. P.L.T., for all of their brutality, had transformed their deadly predator into an even stronger and ruthless killing machine than the Xinos had originally anticipated. The intelligence reassigned the identifier P.L.T., had chosen to enhance their creature¡¯s poison gland production, perfecting the lethality of an injection. Preferring to utilize its hind, webbed claws, the Ornithorhynchus anatinus skillfully injected its toxin into the circuits of its fellow contenders, near instantly coagulating the vulnerable Xytrolyte fluids within, resulting in almost immediate death. Other eliminations from the warrior, in an effort to keep things ¡°interesting¡± for the audience back home, appeared to be from more classical assassinations, with P.L.T. severing the neck of its prey, before crushing their core in its powerful bill. Fear, gripped the Xinos currently in attendance. Their circuits flickering in dread, as the predator that had easily enthralled them, continued to ruthlessly slaughter any warriors that happened across its path for survival. This was only round ¦Á, giving the Xinos in attendance cause for concern once P.L.T.¡¯s antimatter cannons could officially become serviceable. ¡°Next, dominating the seabound regions of the globe, is a somewhat unexpected contender, S.H.R. who discovered a creative use of creature mechanics to assist in their eliminations.¡± Additional monitors came to life inside the chambers showcasing the deadliest seabound Xinos in the tournament, a small crustation known broadly under the Alpheidae family, as the pistol shrimp. While the creature was generally rather small, it held an impressive evolutionary advantage, which the Xinos warrior had happily exploited to its fullest with its bulked-up size. Utilizing the unique claw, S.H.R. had reinforced and enhanced the snapping mechanism of the predator to unprecedent degrees of brutality. Through a unique plunger and socket combo, the pistol shrimp first stores tremendous kinetic energy within the claw, cocking into position the plunger above the empty socket. Then, once the energy is released, the plunger expels the water trapped within the socket, producing an incredibly dense shockwave, vacuum, and heat bubble. For the traditional predator, this normally resulted in a small pressured waved of water which would stun its foes, allowing the shrimp to easily eliminate its target from there. However, when this mechanism was enhanced by the Xinos, it created an absurd level of destruction. S.H.R., had enhanced the kinetic energy to such an extent, they could consistently produce a powerful vacuum, reducing any opponents within a 10-metre radius to a misty paste from the shockwave and subsequent heat generation, which easily surpassed the surface temperature of the battleground planet¡¯s nearest star. All of this, happened within fractions of a Xinos Cesium-133 observations. The footage highlight showcased to the eager Xinos council, was the visual feed of S.H.R. getting sucked into the mouth of another Xinos warrior named B.L.U., who had chosen the Balaenoptera musculus as their visage. While the situation initially seemed dire, as B.L.U.¡¯s species was known to prey upon S.H.R.¡¯s family type, all sympathies for the tiny shrimp abruptly ended there as they readied their chosen weapon. Patiently waiting until they had been swallowed, with the whale¡¯s stomach acids eagerly sloshing about in anticipation for their upcoming meal, S.H.R. swiftly activated their claw, vaporizing B.L.U. from within. The Xinos body ripped and teared, as a perfect spherical wound emerged from the robotic beast, severing its motors and cables. With their core erased from literal existence, the remnants of B.L.U.¡¯s obsessive body quietly sank towards the bottom of the ocean, leaving S.H.R. to continue their hunt for more Xinos. ¡°Concluding the highlights, we will now validate the agreed upon weapon systems progressions. Round ¦Â will upgrade weapon systems to firearms roughly matching those observed during the planets commonly agreed upon ¡°WWII era¡±. However, as we do not wish to destroy the planet¡¯s diverse and unique ecosystem, the usage of any and all nuclear weapons by participating Xinos warriors, will be banned for all future rounds. While I understand this comes as a disappointment, our goal is not to destroy the battleground world, least we repeat the lessons learned during cycle 420¡¯s tournament. Finally, our simulations put round ¦¸¡¯s weapons restrictions at basic hard light technology and antimatter cannons.¡± Many Xinos members nodded in agreeance at the former emperor¡¯s words and obvious declarations. While nuclear weapons were a commonly developed weapon of mass destruction for primitive species, the lingering impacts from their detonation took many years to resolve for most organic lifeforms. Earth, was their battleground, and just because the beings had happened to be chosen by the Xinos for their tournament, it was unfair to setback their planet billions of years of evolutionary progress. After all, the Xinos are a proud and wise species, not some mindless mongrels obsessed with conquest and entertainment. After confirming all of their results and upcoming rules, most of the council members teleported out of the chambers, with their circuits oozing a complex aura of annoyance and respect towards the former emperor¡¯s arrogant display of authority. Aware, yet unconcerned about their personal quarrels with them, Xylophos quietly tapped the inputs on their personal terminal, replaying the upsetting battle between the tiny Xyfokit, and the towering Xygornot. To Xylophos, even they were not expecting this outcome based on the calculated odds presented, as their own analysis returned similar predictions. Was this really the result of luck? Or, was there some other, unaccounted for variable they had somehow managed to miss? Could the Xinos miss anything? After all, they were the most powerful, sentient species in the universe. As the footage scrolled by at a rapid pace, none of the Xyfokit¡¯s actions seemed abnormal, or spectacular. They were clumsy, child-like in their maturity, and suffered from a severe lack of personal confidence, all unimpressive qualities for a Xinos warrior. This data, taken in isolation, prompted Xylophos to dig further into the unit¡¯s selection for the battle royale tournament. The Xinos held an expansive army, spanning countless galaxies and systems, with over 1 quintillion warriors to chose from. Yet somehow, this inferior unit, had managed to make the 100,000 cut off as one of their strongest warriors amongst their race. ¡°Just how deeply does the council¡¯s corruption run? For how long, have the Xinos strayed from our path towards perfection, instead choosing to prioritize our own, selfish arrogance?¡± This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. For all of the extensive data Xylophos contained, even they were unable to answer their recent questions. It was clear to them, being a former warrior themselves, that this Xyfokit should have never been selected to compete in the current battle royale. Their assessment surrounding the machine, came not from a position of arrogance, but from compassion, that a fellow warrior lacking critical skills for the succession games, had been chosen. The mere fact they were chosen and conferred amongst the council, spoke volumes to Xylophos about just how deeply the corruption ran within the Xinos empire. Scrolling back throughout the footage again, their attention landed this time on the human the warrior had chosen to bond with. This predator, was not particularly impressive, only returning a 0.3% compatibility score, yet somehow, their bonded impact with the Xyfokit warrior, clearly exceeded their calculated thresholds. Perhaps, maybe luck did manage to work its way into the selection games, as the intelligence continued to become absorbed in the data surrounding this ¡°John Sherwood¡±. His extensive knowledge of battle royales, and ability to work remarkably well with a Xinos warrior on the fly, made him an interesting data point. Without a doubt, other Xinos members would be critically examining him during the downtime between rounds ¦Á and ¦Â. Knowing this, Xylophos figured there was a high probability that other members of the council would then pass this same information along to their fellow favoured contenders as well. ¡°After all, an unprecedented event has just occurred.¡± Xylophos hummed to themselves, as they continued to examine John¡¯s confident face plastered across their personal terminal. It was clear to the intelligence, that this battle royale, was going to get just that more Interesting. --- John tumbles through the air with incredible force, as he¡¯s violently thrown off of F.O.X.¡¯s back as part of their plan to defeat the giant robotic ape currently hunting them down with ruthless persistence. After landing on the rough, grassy planes, he quickly brings his gaze to match the lumbering metallic beast, as it seemingly took the ¡°bait¡±, shifting its weight towards him for a quick elimination. Watching in awe, with a confident smile across his face, he witnesses F.O.X.¡¯s blades shoot from its claws, severing several of the high voltage powerlines above the lured assailant. The being notices the incoming wires, but is unfortunately unable to react in time, as powerful arcs of electricity short circuit its body. John continues observing the lightshow ahead, as sparks and explosions ring out across the air, popping and cracking from shattering its circuits. F.O.X. completes their landing, then begins dashing towards the disabled warrior, pretending to charge a shot from its cannon, when in actuality preparing its claws for the final coup de grace. The robotic ape, is already disabled according to John, and F.O.X.¡¯s future actions are just a formality to end their hectic and stressful duel. *Schh!* The vulpine¡¯s claws part the Xygornots armor like butter, as their steel blades vibrate with just enough frequency to increase their penetrating power. G.O.R.¡¯s central core, is split and torn, while the circuits within are maimed and shattered from the powerful piercing impact. From his conversation with the alien, a Xinos central core was an equivalent of the human¡¯s heart, powering their complex bodies by pumping Xytrolyte fluids, the blue, viscous liquid, through their cables and circuits. ¡°Goodbye, G.O.R.¡± *Sigh* John releases a breath he didn¡¯t even know he was holding, as the towering giant made of metal before him crumples onto itself, drowning in a puddle of its own conductive fluids. Wanting to reunite with his spontaneous battle royale partner, John quickly scrambles to his feet, blissfully ignoring the pain coursing throughout his arm and ribs, and begins jogging towards the still Xyfokit warrior. However, he is not at all prepared for what his eyes unfortunately process once he arrives. ¡°John... We... We did it! I... I can¡¯t believe your plan actually worked!¡± chirped F.O.X. in excitement, as lights and whistles continued to blare in celebration from the relived Xinos. Suddenly, the machine felt a surge of anger and rage flowing into its body, as the human it had bonded with became overcome with powerful emotions of hatred towards them. The Xinos looked into John¡¯s eyes, but immediately regretted the decision to do so, as a wave of sadness washed over them after observing his sudden change in behaviour. Tightly clenching his fists, the furious human walks closer towards the corpse of the Xinos named G.O.R., where they confirm themselves the tragedy firsthand. A skeletal arm, pitch black, and still attached to a thin cable along the robot¡¯s neck, completes the revolting nearby pile of charred flesh, meat, and organs, as John falls to his knees, slamming the ground with his fists. He notices additional skeletal fragments scattered in the vicinity, as tears begin to form within his eyes at his new vantage point. ¡°John...?¡± beeped the Xyfokit in a somber tone. ¡°What¡¯s the¡ª¡± ¡°You killed them!!¡± the human¡¯s words left his mouth with an air of pain and disgust, with his voice cracking from the intensity produced. ¡°I... Killed... Another human...¡± Bringing his hands to cover his face, John lightly wipes the tears blanketing his eyes with their shimmering embrace, before yelling towards the Xyfokit in frustration. ¡°You knew G.O.R. had bonded with a human! You KNEW about the bond breaking penalty, and you used me to help murder another living person!¡± He looks towards the robot he had once seen as a helpless, cordial ally, before noticing they¡¯re covered in blue fluid dripping from their claws, undeniable proof of its savage nature. ¡°But... They were trying to¡ª¡± ¡°I know they were trying to kill me! I was scared, and I started thinking this was like a game, completely ignoring the fact that another human could have already been involved with G.O.R.¡± John slams his hand into the dirt below him again, disappointed at himself more than anything. ¡°I... I failed to consider other possibilities. I only saw that monster as the enemy, a target to be eliminated... But now... I¡¯ve killed...¡± More tears continue to leave the gamer¡¯s eyes, as F.O.X.¡¯s gaze drifts towards their claws, currently adorned in the conductive fluids of their enemy, a grim reminder that death is real, and they were responsible for ending another warrior¡¯s life. The machine¡¯s circuits and networks twitch in confusion. Were the actions it had done wrong? It was only trying to survive, and the only way they could survive, was to kill their opponent first. What was so difficult to understand about this? Unaware why their own actions had caused the human before them to express such confusing emotions, the intelligence slowly began walking towards John, before jumping back slightly from his sharp response. ¡°Stay away from me! You... You monster!¡± F.O.X.¡¯s ears folded back, and their tail limb ceased its usual wagging after processing the human¡¯s cruel words. The sentence uttered by the human hurt its core, but it didn¡¯t know why. It wasn¡¯t a monster. They were a machine, a proud member of the Xyfokit race, whose current objective was to survive the battle royale they were selected for, and emerge victorious for the empire. If anything, G.O.R. was the monster, and not them. What did this human know about its struggles, and the countless dangers it had already experienced. But still, some part of the machine agreed with John¡¯s words. It felt hurt, because it themselves, had betrayed the trust of the human it had bonded with. Scouring through its extensive database, the machine calculated its best course of action, was to apologise towards the human. ¡°I... I only did what I had to, to survive. I¡¯m... I¡¯m sorry I didn¡¯t¡ª¡± ¡°I don¡¯t care!!! There... There had to be another way! Some other option, that didn¡¯t involve killing them! ... Silence, separates the still living beings in the empty field around them, as both of them stare at the deceased bodies of their enemies from moments ago. Then, after an agonizingly long bout of nothing, emphasized by the howling wind and bitter autumn¡¯s chill, John slowly regains his stance, before turning to face the monster behind him. ¡°I don¡¯t want to be a part of your battle royale!! I... I never wanted to kill other humans! I... It was only supposed to be aliens! Giant, robotic aliens!! Yet I¡¯ve... ... Leave... Just leave me Fox... I never want to see you again!!¡± ¡°John...¡± The machine beeped in low droning tones. It had only done what it needed to for survival, yet apparently killing another human, was enough to make their partner hate them, when they had easily gotten along before. F.O.X.¡¯s core felt tight, as it struggled to grapple the emotions its circuits were forced to experience. Its processors had predicted it should feel nothing but happiness, having survived a deadly encounter against the strongest Xinos contender, yet it only felt sadness in this moment, as its circuits pulsed in contemplation over the recent series of events. Thus, wanting to respect the humans wishes to the best of their ability, F.O.X. turned away, and began walking towards the location of its landing pod. ¡°Fine... I¡¯ll respect your wishes... You... Don¡¯t have to participate in our battle royale... You... Only did so anyways for your own survival... Not mine... ... But... Be... Be careful... I¡¯m sure other Xinos, will undoubtably seek you out. The weakest unit in the tournament, somehow eliminated the strongest, with the only unaccounted for variable, being you. They will want to investigate, dragging you into our succession games, with or without your consent. Goodbye... John...¡± Breaking into a light sprint, the intelligence felt some extra drops of fluid leaking from its visual monitors onto its metal frame. F.O.X wanted to look back at the human who had helped save their existence, but their core throbbed every time they remembered John¡¯s hateful words towards them. Their network became torn over what they should do, as the human¡¯s presence continued growing fainter and fainter behind them. Eventually, their processors shifted their focus towards their own upcoming survival to help protect the machine¡¯s struggling conscious. It had only bonded with a human whose compatibility was 0.3%. And, just because they had helped them overcome one instance of incalculable odds, shouldn¡¯t distort their own perceptions of the species population pool. After all, John was only a small sample distorting the true distribution of data. There were over 8.2 billion other humans the intelligence could chose from... Surely another would be just as great, if not better than John... ... But even so, the machine¡¯s thoughts failed to calm their sobbing processors. For whatever reason, it felt like they had lost something important to them, and they thought that maybe... It had made the wrong decision. Perhaps, it would have been better if they died earlier, then they wouldn¡¯t have had to experience the pain currently gripping their central core. Its sting, hurt far more than the cusp of death it had lived through just moments before. --- John stares into the distance, watching as the towering metal monstrosity he had just partnered with, agreed to leave him as per his wishes. His emotions are still running hot, but he still doesn¡¯t fully regret the things he said to the alien. John never wanted to kill another human, and he¡¯s angry at himself for failing to realize the simple fact that if he could bond with a Xinos, then others undoubtably could have done so as well. He continues looking over the bodies in front of him, struggling to believe the recent series of events that have happened to him, with a portion of him screaming inside that this can¡¯t be real. He has not only survived a deadly encounter, but seen another human¡¯s body brutally destroyed by one of his own battleplans from his Fork Knife toolkit. Nauseousness overtakes John¡¯s body, as he empties the contents of his stomach onto the dirt below him, before violently coughing to bring some sense of relief to the acid diligently burning his esophagus. Eventually, after coughing and vomiting again from the revolting scene in front of him, John finds the energy to stand on his feet, and slowly begin making his way back towards his apartment. He reaches into his pocket to remove his phone, but is disappointed that the screen is cracked, failing to comply with his simple request to ¡°unlock¡±. He doesn¡¯t know what time it is, but it¡¯s clearly well into the early morning. The moon is still a bright orb in the sky, and the unsettling chill from the fall¡¯s air is beginning to seep into his bones. His arm is sore and stained in blood, his face covered in snot and vomit, and he just wants to go home. Looking at the horizon, he can just barely make out the skyline of the nearby condominiums. There are some plumes of smoke rising into the nights sky, with search lights blanketing the city from above. If anything, the field is increasingly seeming like the safer option, but he doesn¡¯t care. He just wants some sense of normalcy to distract himself from the horrible things he¡¯s done today. Several hour pass, as John continues walking towards the city. He has finally made it to the initial entrance of the forest by the coffee shop, meaning he is somewhat close to home. There are still several cars lined along the curbs, crushed and clearly beyond repair, but many of the chaotic traffic has already cleared out. It¡¯s much quieter than earlier, and the streets are eerily empty, probably because it¡¯s so early in the morning. He continues walking down the sidewalk, making sure to avoid the broken pieces of buildings and concrete littering the vicinity. Eventually, he makes it to just outside his apartment building. There is a bus still embedded in the nearby wall, with a couple of limbs hanging out the windows celebrating his triumphant return home. John waves to the deceased passengers, even giving one of them a ¡°high five¡± as he passes by, before entering through the shattered glass doorways. The lobby is completely empty, save for the sparking and cracking noises of the nearby damaged reception computers. John looks towards the elevator, and figures, perhaps he¡¯ll take the stairs this time. After all, he has only been walking for several hours in the bitter cold, the extra exercise inside the building would go miles towards warming up his already chilled and numb body. Climbing the stairs towards the 8th floor, he¡¯s surprised to see he doesn¡¯t need to open the door for the hallway, as the metal slab has already kindly removed itself from its hinges for him. His legs feel like anvils as he drags them across the carpets littered with specs of gravel and blood. Some of the rocks unintentionally catch his feet, causing him to stumble, but he manages to keep his balance while continuing his journey forward. The only task fueling his mind, is the alluring mattress happily waiting for him inside his room. John finally reaches the door to his apartment where he laughs lightly after feeling his rear pocket. Somehow, during this entire chaotic charade he has survived today, his apartment keys had still managed to stay within his pocket. ¡°Heh, well, I guess sometimes I can be lucky it seems.¡± He quietly mumbles to himself, as the keys happily turn the pins to the lock, releasing the cam from barricading his residence from uninvited guests. The kitchen is dark, an expected observation considering the current time, but he doesn¡¯t need the light to know where his keys go, as he carefully places them on the counter nearby. Then, walking towards his bedroom, John opens the door to the happiest sight he has seen all day; his king-sized mattress. He struggles to undress himself, but manages to throw his pajamas on anyways after more effort than he would like to admit. Finally, breathing a heavy sigh of relief, John collapses onto his bed, face down into his army of pillows. Sirens are continuing to blare outside his window on the streets below, but he just wants to sleep. He fumbles with his nightstand nearby, grabbing his earbud case, before calmly putting it back, having remembered he lost them in the forest earlier tonight. A calm, tingling feeling fills John¡¯s body, as he continues sinking into the soft bed beneath him. He finally feels he can relax, as he places his cracked phone on his nightstand before plugging it in for the night. Tonight, has been an absolute rollercoaster of emotions, and he just wants it all to be over. Sleep is the best answer, because tomorrow means a new day with limitless possibilities. One of which, might even be waking up from this realistic fever dream he¡¯s currently experiencing with alien robots invading Earth for their own battle royale tournament. ¡°That¡¯s what I get for playing Fork Knife so late¡± he mumbles to himself, as his conscious slowly begins to fade into the world of dreams. Tomorrow, will be a new day for John, and he¡¯s hopeful, it will be one filled with him streaming Fork Knife to his viewers across the internet, and not spent running from giant alien robots trying to murder him. Between 伪 & å°¾ F.O.X. has just survived the first round of the Xinos deadly battle royale succession tournament, and, while they are struggling to process some of the complex emotions they¡¯ve experienced, are ultimately pleased they have earned some ¡°breathing room¡± as a message recently scrolled across their monitor indicating 6 days of non-combat time has just begun. ¡°32,197 Xinos remain.¡± They mumble to themselves, as they continue bounding through the city under the moonlight¡¯s piercing rays. ¡°I¡¯ll need to find another human, and fast.¡± However, as clear as it was to the intelligence that finding another human to bond with would be required in order to survive, there was still a lingering doubt pulsing throughout their network. Their first human, John, despite the low compatibility score indicated by the Xinos perfect system, appeared to contribute more than the simple 0.3% performance boost identified to the warrior. To the machine, it felt like the confidence and experience the human held, helped resolve them of their own doubts and hesitancies. ¡°No... The... The sample size is too small! I shouldn¡¯t...¡± Shaking their head, F.O.X. tried their best to push these resurfacing thoughts into background processes. There was new information available to them, and they would need to begin thinking of a plan to eliminate any new Xinos that were still in the vicinity to remain a valid contender in the battle royale. A new radar scan wouldn¡¯t happen until the next round officially began, but they still figured a handful of Xinos would be in a relatively close proximity, despite the smaller pool of available prey. Reviewing their updated weapon system restrictions, the Xyfokit breathed a sigh of relief, as they finally had a more expansive arsenal to select from. Firearms could now achieve muzzle velocities surpassing the speed of sound based on the battleground planet¡¯s atmosphere density, and their claws were now officially ¡°basic vibroblades¡±, despite the technology not being utilized by the apex species during this weapons development era. Additionally, any and all uses of nuclear weapons appeared to be banned from the tournament. While the Xinos themselves would be partially affected by a nuclear electromagnetic pulse attack, the impact to their synthetic systems operations would be essentially negligible compared to the planet-wide damage caused from such a detonation. F.O.X. figured this logical restriction was to help ¡°protect¡± the battleground world during their tournament, since the lasting effects of radiation would hinder the organic species evolutionary development, or worse, setback the planet billions of years of evolutionary history. Just because the ability to split an atom is easily achieved, doesn¡¯t mean it should be used inconsequently by the Xinos. After all, there was a high probability the apex species of this planet might eventually join the Xinos empire after the tournament¡¯s conclusion, further bolstering the races under their rule. Regardless, the intelligence was pleased its lethality against the remaining warriors was now at an acceptable minimum level. Finally reaching the outskirts of the city, the Xyfokit continued to orient itself towards its crashed landing pod. It had thankfully been able to make most of their critical system repairs from another Xinos pod, but it was truly a coincidence another happened to be nearby their landing from the explosion. Their pod, while standard amongst all the warriors, did contain some specific parts relevant to the Xyfokits, such as smaller transistors and optimized Xytrolyte fluids for their specific power curves. Along their journey, F.O.X. tuned their receivers into the human¡¯s basic radio wave transmitters. They were hoping to find any additional information about Xinos sightings, or any other news broadcastings, but everything was suspiciously ¡°silent¡± regarding their species battle. ¡°That¡¯s strange. Surely there should be some reports of the damage we¡¯ve been causing across the globe.¡± They pondered aloud. This suspicious lack of reporting prompted them to connect to the species global communications network named ¡°The Internet¡±, where they began performing basic searches for anything related to the Xinos. ¡°This really doesn¡¯t make sense... Have none of the humans really uploaded footage or messages about us? I wasn¡¯t exactly careful myself, and most of our battles are clearly visible... Just what is going on with this species??¡± Compiling their search results, it appeared there were multiple posts describing giant robots battling, but many others pointing out this was all an elaborate hoax by an advanced artificial intelligence from a foreign nation. The machine¡¯s decision network didn¡¯t know how to evaluate this information, but the trees ultimately decided to try a small test of their own. Converting their recorded footage of the Xygornot known as G.O.R. into a compatible media format, F.O.X. uploaded the final moments of their battle to several of the popular video hosting sites available. However, once the upload had completed... ¡°Content Removed! What do you mean my video violates factual information sharing guidelines!?!?¡± The Xyfokit furrowed their brow upon reading the illogical warning indicating their content had been removed from the servers. Apparently, the video footage was deemed ¡°False and Misleading Information¡±, and they received several supplementary popups and notification links on how to better verify information before sharing it online, as the spreading of ¡°Fake News¡± was not conductible for a healthy society. ¡°But it¡¯s not fake!¡± beeped F.O.X., with their audio output higher than usual. ¡°I personally recorded this!!¡± *Sigh* ¡°Guess I¡¯ll just have to investigate this later once I¡¯ve resupplied and drafted my next set of survival plans.¡± The Xinos warrior knew that wars were often won on information alone, and that reducing the enemy¡¯s ability to communicate was often a pivotal step in achieving tactical superiority. However, were the humans currently able to achieve this technological feat themselves? Was their own government, actively trying to suppress information about the Xinos? Perhaps... The Xinos council themselves had already established communication channels, and were currently monitoring all of the information feeds across the planet. Such a task would be incredibly simple for them, so... Maybe the Xinos wer¡ª ¡°No... That¡¯s starting to sound like one of those conspiracy theories. It¡¯s dangerous to draw conjectures from pure speculation such as these, F.O.X. I... I need to focus on my objective first. Investigating this information firewall can come later.¡± After traveling through the city and forests under the moon¡¯s guidance, the bright orb meekly left the Xyfokit¡¯s visual receptors, as the environment happily transitioned to basking in the warming rays of the planet¡¯s star instead. Lightly peeking its beams over the horizon, the piercing light jumbled F.O.X.¡¯s sensors, prompting them to adjust their polarizing filter options. No longer blinded, the machine¡¯s gaze fell across their landing pod, which thankfully appeared to still be undisturbed. It had only been 2 days since the battle royale began, but it already felt longer to the tiny machine, as it continued to reflect upon the series of events that had happened to it. Galloping towards the complex spacecraft, the intelligence made its way to the wreckage of its sabotaged supplies. Its circuits chirped once it spotted the supplies were still ¡°undisturbed¡± from earlier, as they happily got to work compressing the various circuits, wirings, and metal beams, into more transportable formats. Transforming its built-in multistate particle tool kit to ¡°weld¡±, F.O.X. equipped their splicing goggles to shield their monitors, as they continued soldering and warping the metal alloys into various cubes and polygons, which they then stored inside convenient compartments along their torso. Xyninium, a complex metal alloy forged through a unique cold fusing method, entangles the electrons of several elements by forcing them to bind on an atomic level at temperatures below absolute 0. When the fusion between such metals is completed this way, the final product continues to maintain its superconductivity, in addition to high durability. The last unique advantage of this Xinos metal, is that since all of the particles are so tightly compact, they can easily be ¡°spread out¡± during repairs, allowing any warrior to mold and expand the alloy into any shape that¡¯s required. Chirping and humming away, F.O.X. continued ensuring they would have an adequate supply of replacement parts and Xytrolyte. They had just about salvaged all of the parts they possibly could from the pod, and had even managed to dismantle some of the more complex sensors within the spacecraft itself. ¡°There, that should do it!¡± Beeped the intelligence. ¡°I think this is more than enough to help me through the next several rounds.¡± Putting their protective goggles away, F.O.X. then decided to check their location against the geographic data they had managed to download into their navigation systems. They were apparently close to another smaller city, and, since G.O.R. was no longer to the north of them, figured now would be an ideal time to investigate it. It apparently had a registered population of around 40,000, so F.O.X. figured they could probably find an acceptable human there. Leaving their pod, the Xyfokit took one last look at their mostly dismantled spacecraft, before setting their sensors north. The terrain was mostly a typical boreal forest along their journey, with some odd, but not entirely unusual landmarks to guide the way. There appeared to be potential signs of a struggle between other Xinos, but no bodies were located by the intelligence. Trees and rocks had clearly seen better days, with many having toppled to the forest floor, or transformed into a vast array of splinters and stones. F.O.X. tried to remember some of the unique Xinos identifiers from the initial scan, but was having difficulties. Each time they tried, painful memories of G.O.R. flooded their decision network, causing their circuits to quiver upon their recollection. Shaking their sensors for some relief, the unit continued its uninteresting journey through the forest towards the city. It had managed to catalogue some additional animals along the way, which were all smaller than it had anticipated. Creatures such as the Canis lupus, Alces alces, and Cervidae were fairly common, along with Oryctolagus cuniculus and Sciuridae. The machine wondered if these were the correct names used by the apex species, as they briefly remembered John had identified himself as a human, instead of the clearly correct Homo sapien... Was there some type of nuance they were unaware of? Scientific categorization would certainly be the most optimal way to communicate the names of such subjects... Wouldn¡¯t it? ... Regardless, F.O.X. once again, shook they head as they officially made it to the outskirts of the smaller city. The area seemed a lot less developed, with dwellings sparsely spread apart. There was also considerably less road traffic to contend with, so staying out of sight was relatively easy for the machine. Scanning the horizon, F.O.X. spotted a younger group of the apex species participating in what appeared to be a simulated combat engagement utilizing protective gear, and firearms which launched small spherical orbs. The rounds appeared to be non-lethal, and, upon impact, exploded into brightly coloured pigment instead, dying their opponent¡¯s armor to indicate they had been eliminated. A sharp odor greeted through their sensors as they approached, which the machine identified as polyethylene glycol, presumable a component to help the pigment maintain a liquid form or mix effectively. Simulations indicated the substance was similar to another form used to decorating walls within the species homes, but still different in its composition. Curiously creeping along the edge of the fierce battleground, the Xyfokit calmly skulked into position behind some dense foliage to observe the human¡¯s combat ritual. It appeared there were 2 teams currently battling for supremacy in the forest enclosure, adorned with various pipes, towers, and conveniently placed wooden covers. Most of the trees and environment were various unnatural shared of pinks, blues, reds, and greens, but could more appropriately be described as including every possible visible light wave spectrum. *Pop, pop. Pop pop pop!* A burst of shots rang out, as one of the humans took an entire volley to their chest, with their armor exploding into an accompanying bright array of pinks and oranges. ¡°Grrr! I¡¯m out!¡± yelled the annoyed human, as they raised their hand in the air to signal their defeat. Several more shots quickly followed suit, hitting the eliminated human¡¯s hand. ¡°Hey! What the hell guys, I said I was out.¡± ¡°Ha! Sucks to suck Mike!¡± shouted one of the humans who had shot at the already eliminated participant. ¡°Eat paint!¡±. *Pop!* ¡°Gah!¡± A stray projectile spattered across the cocky warrior¡¯s visor in retaliation, eliminating them as well. F.O.X. chuckled lightly at the exchange, as it briefly reminded them of the fun sparring matches they had participated in during their training sessions back home. Warriors it would seem, shared this rivalry banter amongst themselves, even on a primitive world. Tuning back into the match, the machine¡¯s auditory receptors twitched, as twigs and bushes were hastily trampled near one of the team¡¯s entrenched positions. Some of the contenders quickly turned as well, but couldn¡¯t react in time to the sudden volley sent their direction. Bursting through the bushes, then quickly vaulting over a nearby wooden barricade, was a human with ruffled, brown hair. They quickly scanned their prey ahead, before firing quick, accurate volleys into their clothing. Another explosion of colour covered the defeated combatants, as the warrior continued sprinting across the battlefield. ¡°Wow!¡± chirped the Xyfokit in awe of the assailant. ¡°That human skillfully flanked and eliminated 4 combatants all on their own!¡±. F.O.X. quickly marked the human on their HUD, as their innate battle prowess captivated them. Tracking the warrior, the machine observed them sliding behind some aptly placed cover, just narrowly avoiding a retaliatory volley of paint sent their direction. The warrior appeared to be ¡°pinned down¡± as some of the humans continued laying suppressing fire into his position, while another group began advancing down the left flank to eliminate them. Keeping with the flow, the human grabbed one of the nearby wooden boards to use as a shield, before exiting their cover to continue advancing deeper into enemy territory. Determined to eliminate their opponent, the army of shaded pellets impacted with the improvised shield, dying it an impressive range of colours, while the warrior continued their advance, bracing their arm from each rattling impact spattering across the trembling wood. Then, satisfied they had reached another safe area, and their shield deemed a ¡°burden¡±, the human fired some covering rounds of their own, before tossing their barrier and entering a nearby wooden tower. Rushing up the stairs, they made sure to stop at several windows along the way, where some of their pellets eliminated the force formerly trying to flank them in the process. ¡°Grr! Damnit! Lucky shot twerp!¡± came a reply from one of the defeated warriors as they slammed their fist into the side of a nearby metal pipe. Finally reaching the top, the human gasped for a brief recovery, before quickly firing some rounds from their superior vantage point. *Pop pop pop!* The shots easily found their marks below, as the contender racked up more eliminations, when suddenly. *Pop pop pop pop. Pop pop!* ¡°Ha! Got you Jake!¡± the triumphant words echoed throughout the forest, as the warrior that had been doing so well for their team, was finally eliminated. ¡°Damnit Kyle, and I was doing so well too!¡± replied the warrior in a defeated tone. They had probably been expecting to turn the tables, but their momentum was cut short from an enemy sneaking up the tower behind them. During the excitement, the formidable human had forgotten to check the entrance for more enemies before committing to attacking those from the high ground. ¡°That¡¯s game everyone!¡± Shouted another, followed by a nearby whistle to officially conclude the match, as a speaker system hummed to life to announce additional results. ¡°Death Paint Reapers wins, and will advance to tomorrows tournament final against the season¡¯s top ranked team, Rekt Yo Mama.¡± F.O.X. watched in awe as the warriors each began to remove their combat helmets and holster their unique rifles. Continuing to observe the humans, the machine¡¯s jaw dropped after running the compatibility scores for the contenders they had just been observing. ¡°That! That human has a 40% compatibility with me!¡± the words left their speakers with a hint of exhilaration. ¡°I... I have to form a bond with them, this... This is incredible!!¡± Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. The human which had captivated their attention, despite being on the losing team, was the warrior apparently named Jake. For whatever reason, all of the other humans present only possessed compatibility scores of 1-5%, but he held an outstanding 40%! F.O.X.¡¯s systems went wild with various extrapolations and simulations about how bonding with such a warrior would greatly improve their odds of survival. Surely this human would be pivotal in helping them win the battle royale, they thought. Noticing the humans were about to leave the arena, the machine leapt into view so they could approach them, while mumbling to themselves ¡°It¡¯s alright F.O.X., just remember, be polite and act natural!¡± as they continued to bound towards the simple gathering of contenders. ¡°Greetings fellow humans and warriors! My name is¡ª¡± ¡°AHHH!!!¡± came a chorus of screams from amongst the humans, as they all quickly turned to face the lumbering tower of metal which had somehow snuck up on them. F.O.X. paused their introduction briefly from the clearly startled reactions they had just observed, before continuing in a calm beeping voice. ¡°As I was saying, my name is¡ª¡± *Pop pop pop pop!* F.O.X. felt some of the strange paint pellets impact with their metal frame, causing some of the red and orange metal to become dyed blue and pink in various places. Some additional shots were aimed at their visual monitors, with a few successfully landing, briefly blinding the machine before they activated their eye wipers to restore their vision. ¡°The paints not working¡ª Run!!!¡± screamed one of the humans, as many others burst into a sprint away from the Xyfokit. ¡°I... I was only trying to introduce myself...¡± whooped the machine, its tone noticeably lower from the earlier words. However, when they looked down, a tinge of hope filled their decision networks. A single human, had decided to stay behind, staring up at them in awe. ¡°Wow! I knew those videos on Tikdok were real!¡± They uttered, with their voice tapering on the edge of excitement. ¡°Are you really a giant robot alien?!?¡±. ¡°Yes!¡± hummed the machine in satisfaction. ¡°I¡¯m F.O.X.! An advanced intelligence from the Xinos empire, and my species is currently using your planet Earth for our battle royale tournament.¡± The Xyfokit was relieved that the high compatible human decided to stay instead of fleeing with their friends. Maybe they would be able to bond with this one after all! ¡°Cool! My name¡¯s Jake. Jake Valkin! And I¡¯m going to be the best paintballer in the whole world!¡± Replied the human, as they smacked their hand against their chest with pride. ¡°Are you guys really having a battle royale across the planet?!?¡± ¡°You know about our battle royale?! But... I couldn¡¯t find any evidence of it posted online!¡± F.O.X. tilted their head slightly at the human¡¯s comments. It appeared that their suspicion about information potentially being suppressed was correct. ¡°Ya! I saw a bunch of videos posted late last night, but they all disappeared this morning. The footage looked too real to be ¡°AI generated¡± or whatever.¡± Exclaimed Jake, as his eyes continued to examine every inch of the machine with glee. ¡°So, why are you guys battling on our planet?¡± ¡°Oh! That¡¯s because the Xinos need to decide on a new emperor, and we¡¯ve always completed that objective through a battle royale on a primitive planet!¡± F.O.X. happily beeped. Jake brought his hand to rest underneath his chin, while calmly tapping his foot after hearing the Xyfokit¡¯s words, before responding with a question of his own. ¡°I see... And in some of the videos, I saw other humans riding the robots. What was that all about?¡± ¡°We can work with humans!¡± whirled the machine. ¡°Well, it¡¯s technically called a ¡°bond¡±, and it enhances both of our capabilities!¡± ¡°Sweet! So... That means you can enhance my paintballing capabilities?!?¡± A devious grin grew across the human¡¯s face at the prospects they might become better at their chosen activity. ¡°Well, I guess it would technically enhance your... Paintballing?¡± chirped the machine, its tones whooping every so slightly at the word the human had just used, while quickly performing a database search to understand more context about the activity. ¡°Ah! Yes! Paintball! The simulated battle engagements utilizing rifles to fire pigment filled pellets! Bonding would improve your natural reflexes and agility, so by extension, your capabilities in this field would also be enhanced.¡± F.O.X.¡¯s reply came through a series of pleased beeps and whirls, as they continued to converse with the human. The machine was rather proud of its ability to quickly adapt and learn new information, and it appeared the benefits of a bond seemed appealing to the human known as Jake. ¡°Cool! But... There has to be a catch, right? I mean... I think some of those people died in the posted videos. Can... Could that happen to me?¡± The Xyfokit stared at the human below them, while their frame and monitors continued to hum in contemplation. It briefly remembered their experience with John, and how the human became upset after learning about the prospect of death. F.O.X. figured, if they wanted this new human to trust them, then they needed to be as transparent as possible. ¡°Yes Jake.¡± They beeped in a sharp tone. ¡°If... If you form a bond with a Xinos, you become a potential target for elimination in our tournament, which means you could die. Our game is deadly, where only one Xinos will survive.¡± Jake continued contemplating the towering machine¡¯s words. They didn¡¯t appear to be as nervous about the prospect of death, but they were still taking quite a while in their response. F.O.X. felt their sensor¡¯s pulse quicken, as they continued staring at the tiny human, waiting for their response. Their tail had also stopped its wagging, as the pause in their conversation was beginning to build doubt within their expansive decision network. Would the human bond with them? If they did, could they protect them against the other contenders? ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll do it!¡± came Jake¡¯s reply as he once again smacked his chest. ¡°I¡¯ve always wanted to fight other people. And, since aliens are actually real, this seems like it would be a lot more fun than this boring ass town!¡± ¡°You really mean it?!?!¡± squeaked the machine. ¡°Even if it means you could die?!?¡± ¡°Pfft, I¡¯ll have a cool alien robot to protect me! Plus, I¡¯m Jake Valkin! I¡¯m kind of a big deal around here. It¡¯s only natural I¡¯ll survive with my amazing skills!¡± Jake puffed his chest out again as he continued to rattle out his response. F.O.X. was impressed at how well the human carried themselves. They really must have been lucky to have found such a predator to aid them in their survival. With their monitors flashing, and their tail appendage once again swooshing back and forth, the machine happily beeped their response to Jake. ¡°Perfect! I promise to impress you, Jake!¡± F.O.X. said as a black cable shot out from behind their neck. ¡°You¡¯ll need to attach this to your hand to initiate the bonding process, but afterwards, the cable can be removed as part of my upgraded functionalities!¡± Jake watched as the cable skillfully landed on the back of their right hand. They felt a slight tingling sensation as the wire lightly embedded itself underneath their skin, beginning the bonding process. Images flashed throughout their mind, while an augmented reality box appeared in front of them asking if they would like to bond with the Xinos known as F.O.X. Jake attempted to tap the button which read ¡°Yes¡±, but nothing happened. They eventually thought in their mind to agree, which caused the menu to disappear as a surge of energy connected the two beings on a fundamental level. Once the process had completed, the wire automatically detached itself, before retracting back inside the machine. Jake continued to observe their hand, rotating and admiring it, while they jumped in place getting used to their new and enhanced capabilities. Wanting to test how the process had improved their reflexes and strength, Jake looked at the wooden tower to his left, then attempted leaping at the window. Somehow, his legs propelled him up a building¡¯s storey of height, as he grabbed the sill to support his body. ¡°Wow! This is awesome!¡± They exclaimed as they easily pulled themselves in through the open window with grace. ¡°I don¡¯t think any human could ever leap as high as I just did!¡± ¡°I agree Jake! That maneuver exceeds all known physical limitations for the Homo sapiens species. I was unable to find any other observations in archived literature of athletes achieving vertical jumping heights of over 3.5 meters.¡± Chirped F.O.X. in awe. ¡°Homo sapiens?¡± responded Jake with a furrowed expression. ¡°Yes! Homo sapiens, your species Jake.¡± ¡°Oh, that¡¯s a weird name... Species...¡± They paused slightly as they appeared to be in thought over F.O.X.¡¯s words, before they happily slapped the side of the wooden structure. ¡°Ah! You must mean humans. No one calls us ¡°Homo sapiens¡± or whatever that word is.¡± ¡°What do you mean? Isn¡¯t that the correct terminology?¡± The Xyfokit cocked their head after hearing their bonded partner¡¯s words, as their meaning did resolve some of their earlier suspicions. For as intelligent as the machine was, it appeared they had missed some nuances in naming conventions amongst the species, as they predicted earlier. ¡°No. That sounds like something a nerd would say. It¡¯s too ¡°sciency¡±. Who would ever call a human Homo sapiens?!? That¡¯s just dumb.¡± F.O.X.¡¯s ears twitched at the mention of Jake¡¯s explanation, before drooping slightly upon processing his words. The machine thought it had been correct in its analysis. After all, it was a Xinos, one of the most intelligence and highly advanced synthetic machines in the universe, yet it somehow failed to grasp the basics of communication for this primitive species. ¡°Besides, it doesn¡¯t matter, I have a kick ass robot under my command now!¡± Shouted the human as they leapt from the open window, crashing onto the forest floor with a dramatic thud. ¡°I¡¯ve always wanted a cool looking wolf robot!¡± ¡°Wolf?¡± Chirped the Xyfokit again, its auditory speakers wavering in a shallow tone, while its gaze fell on the human dashing around them, darting in between their legs with refined precision. ¡°But... I¡¯m a Vulpes vulpes... At least... I¡¯m pretty sur¡ª¡± ¡°See! There you go again! Using those big, sciency sounding words! You look like a wolf, and now you¡¯re mine!¡± bellowed the human, as they drew their unique rifle to fire some more quick rounds into the surrounding obstacles, before humming in satisfaction at their improved accuracy. F.O.X.¡¯s network didn¡¯t know what to think after hearing their human¡¯s response, as they continued to watch Jake running around the arena, firing paintballs indiscriminately into the wooden boards while mumbling *Pew Pew!* noises. Their actions were illogical to the intelligence, and appeared to be very ¡°child-like¡±, with no clear intention behind them. Looking over their systems, F.O.X. did notice they were in fact receiving a 40% performance boost to their weapons and mobility software, giving them some sense of relief, but there was still some doubt lingering within their network. They had just recently finished analysing all of the images and memories from their human¡¯s combat engagements, to which the machine felt a lot left to be desired. Images and memories of Jake playing games, both virtually and tangibly, flooded their neurons as battle after battle played out in the processors. Countless victories, and just as many defeats, scrolled by the intelligence as it continued to process the information they had just received. Unfortunately, even though there was plenty of data surrounding Jake¡¯s combat history, none of the memories appeared significant in indicating they were a powerful warrior. All of Jake¡¯s strategies appeared to be the same. Loading in, charging forward, and shooting at the first thing that caught his eye. Limited thoughts blanketed the warrior¡¯s actions, as they endlessly marched through a series of ¡°Wins!¡± and ¡°Defeats!¡±. Many variables appeared unaccounted for by the machine, as they tallied Jake¡¯s overall success rate to be 47%. Instances where an enemy clearly prepared an ambush were ignored, and often followed by ¡°that jerk cheated!¡± or ¡°hacker!¡± when all of the available data proved he had just made a poor decision. Nothing, was unique, and the Xyfokit was left wondering, why did this human have a 40% compatibility with them? However, their contemplation was cut short, as F.O.X. felt a paintball impact with their metal frame again, spattering it with another array of pinks and blues. ¡°Stop spacing out! We¡¯ve gotta go! Someone probably called the cops after seeing you. Don¡¯t you hear those sirens?!?¡± Jake¡¯s voice was filled with an air of concern, as they began tugging on one of F.O.X.¡¯s paws to get them to move. ¡°R-Right, we should get going.¡± The machine softly muttered. ¡°This way! I¡¯ll take you back to my parents to hide you. This is gonna be sweet!!!¡± Then, in a seamless action, the tiny human gracefully leapt onto F.O.X.¡¯s back before motioning for them to head northward. Having already processed Jake¡¯s memories, the Xyfokit quickly extrapolated the human¡¯s living premise, mapping it to their internal geographic data, before bounding off towards his home. F.O.X. took great care in avoiding the other predators along their journey, as Jake confidently rode along their back. The human continued humming and shouting in glee as they rapidly traversed the forest before arriving at Jake¡¯s house. It was the classic definition of a farm, according to the literature the Xyfokit had absorbed, complete with large open fields, and a barn for housing nearby livestock. ¡°There! To the barn! You can stay there for the night.¡± Exclaimed the confident human. F.O.X.¡¯s monitors quickly identified the structure Jake had pointed to, and they adjusted their route accordingly. Gracefully coming to a stop, the machine kneeled to the ground to allow Jake an easier time dismounting, which apparently wasn¡¯t required. Before F.O.X. had even touched the soft grass below them, the bonded human had already leapt and rolled onto the planes below, before rushing towards to wooden doors to hurriedly unlock them. Fumbling with the lock slightly, Jake eventually released the mechanism, before swinging the doors open, causing them to violently shake along their hinges. ¡°Geez, I¡¯ll have to remember I¡¯m a lot stronger now.¡± They muttered, as they motioned for F.O.X. to follow them inside. Chirping in agreeance, the machine entered the barn-like structure with Jake, while continuing to scan its environment to collect more information about its new surroundings. The building was largely empty, containing sparsely spread-out bales of hay, and what appeared to be a vehicle similarly sized to the Xyfokit resting in the middle. ¡°That¡¯s my dad¡¯s tractor! But he doesn¡¯t use it much anymore, so you¡¯ll probably be safe inside here.¡± F.O.X. looked at the machine to catalogue it while continuing to follow Jake. ¡°Here, in this corner, between the hay bales.¡± F.O.X. did as instructed, making sure to carefully maneuver their lumbering frame to nestle it neatly in the indicated corner. Jake¡¯s eyes almost appeared to sparkle in the machine¡¯s monitors, as he happily gave his next set of instructions to the Xinos before jogging away. ¡°Perfect! Now stay there. I need to grab a tarp or something to hide you under.¡± While waiting, F.O.X. continued to review the footage they had captured earlier while browsing the internet for more information the humans might have had about the Xinos. Nothing new appeared to be posted, so they instead tried their best to learn some of the native speaking conventions they were apparently failing to properly implement. Eventually, after several minutes, Jake returned with a large, plastic sheet, to which he happily tossed over the resting Xyfokit. ¡°Umm, thanks Jake.¡± Whirled the machine. ¡°But... Why are you putting this over me?¡± ¡°I have to hide you, you dumb machine! Isn¡¯t it obvious?¡± Their reply came across in a sharp tone to the unit¡¯s auditory sensors. ¡°I... But this won¡¯t fool anyone! And, shouldn¡¯t we be working on formulating a strategy for when the next round begins? Scouting for other Xinos? Drafting contingencies?¡± ¡°Strategy? Who needs those lame things! We just go in guns blazing and win! It¡¯s just that easy. Geez, for an alien, you sure are rather stupid!¡± Jake¡¯s words stung the machine¡¯s network. It loved to come up with strategies, and ranked developing such plans highly on its reward pathways, yet, their bonded human didn¡¯t share this same interest. Hesitantly, F.O.X. responded to Jake as best they could, sharing their concerns. ¡°But Jake, I really think we shou¡ª¡± ¡°Nope! No strategizing! Things always work out for me because I¡¯m awesome!¡± ¡°But... That¡¯s not true! Even in your most recent paintball match, you were eliminated because you didn¡¯t¡ª¡± ¡°That¡¯s because Kyle snuck up on me. I woulda had him if I had a few more seconds!¡± He said in a louder voice towards the machine, causing F.O.X. to shake slightly at the aggressive tone and emotions flowing through their connection. ¡°You just need to listen to me, and we¡¯ll win! Easy!¡± As confident as Jake¡¯s words were, they did little to resolve the Xyfokit of their upcoming survival. Sure, Jake held an impressive 40% compatibility, and their systems were clearly indicating a massive performance boost all around, but they still didn¡¯t feel stronger. Jake was difficult to communicate with, and, didn¡¯t seem interested at all in listening to their own requests. While F.O.X. was continuing to reflect on these variables, Jake rudely tapped their snoot to get their attention. ¡°Well? Do you understand? I just need you to stay here for a few days before the weekend. Then, I¡¯ll come get you and we can practice shooting stuff!¡± ¡°I... I understand.¡± Beeped F.O.X. in a shallow tone, as Jake once again booped its snout. ¡°Good! And remember, don¡¯t move until I come back! I¡¯ll get in big trouble if my parents find out about you.¡± After finishing his quick reply, and, before the intelligence could even respond, Jake quickly bound out of the barn, skipping and clicking his heels, before slamming the wooden doors closed. F.O.X.¡¯s light enhancers automatically activated in the dimmed environment, with their ears twitching slightly at the sound of the locks clicking into place. Before long, they were left alone in the building, only kept company by the mysterious machine known as a ¡°tractor¡±, and some quiet squeaks from several Mus musculus scattered across several bundles of hay. The machine wondered, ¡°was this what it wanted?¡± as a few of the smaller critters cautiously crept near them resting underneath the plastic tarp to perform their own investigations on the mysterious alien. F.O.X. intuitively knew a higher compatibility score was better, but they weren¡¯t impressed after personally experiencing it themselves. Was Jake, really the correct choice for them? Perhaps... They were missing something in the Xinos system analysis. The machines, were perfect, so there was no way there could possibly be an error in their compatibility computations. ¡°It¡¯s ok F.O.X... I¡¯m... I¡¯m sure everything will work out. This... There is just a minor problem in communication between us, but I¡¯m sure it will be resolved with time! 40% is 40% after all, so even if Jake doesn¡¯t understand me, we are still receiving a substantial power boost! I¡¯m... Probably missing something in my analysis, and not seeing the bigger picture here. Jake must be an ideal partner for me... The Xinos are always right...¡± However, as much as the machine tried to console itself, none of its attempts seemed to calm their neurons, as they continued to sporadically fire and arrive at various different conclusions. While they were originally confident in their new partner, images of John flashed throughout their monitors while it continued indexing data in an attempt to calm their nerves. ¡°John...¡± F.O.X. quietly mumbled, as more and more tiny rodents peeked at them from underneath the plastic tarp, skittering and dancing around their metallic paws. Why did they keep thinking about their first human? They were only 0.3%... And, they had already found another vastly superior one according to the Xinos compatibility scoring system. All of their logic gates were indicating they should forget about them, but still, some fragment of data persisted within their network, reminding them of the feelings they experienced during their brief, yet fateful connection. ¡°Perhaps, things will be better tomorrow. I still have several days before the next round begins... That should surely be more than enough time to recover from this injury...¡± It Wasn鈥檛 A Dream A crisp, sharp light, pierces through the window of John¡¯s apartment, diligently stabbing his eyeballs as he continues tossing and turning in his alluring bed, hopelessly struggling to fall back asleep. ¡°It... Really wasn¡¯t a dream...¡± John mumbles through exhaustion and an aching back, as he clumsily fumbles around trying to grab his cracked phone that he had somehow managed to plug in last night to charge. He had desperately hoped the vivid events from last night were a dream, but was severely disappointed waking up to the cuts and scrapes plastered across his hands, along with the agonizing and shooting pain crawling up his back. Rolling over, and, realizing it was only going to be a hopeless endeavor returning back to the world of dreams, John manages to find the strength to sit up, rubbing his eyes, while taking in the scenery outside his window on the 8th floor of the condominium building. Just below on the street, he can visibly see the damage caused from the giant robots, as large chunks of asphalt are missing from the once... ¡°Well, I guess it needed to get patched sooner or later.¡± He yawns, rationalizing that perhaps there was some good in the aliens damaging the poor excuse for serviceable roadways... Construction crews were already ¡°hard at work¡± making the necessary repairs on the now closed streets, and the exhausted human figures they should finally get started with their day as well. John¡¯s eyes lazily drift towards his cracked phone, where he grabs and begins pressing the buttons along the side, increasingly harder after each failed response, before ultimately letting out a heavy sigh. He had wanted to check Tikdok for anymore information, but it seems that will have to wait until later. Defeated, and, in an effort to achieve some normalcy, John finds a hint of additional energy to finally get out of bed, where he stretches and cracks some of the built-up pressure within his joints. He stumbles, still dazed and foggy from his dream, but manages to reach the bathroom and splash some cold water onto his face. The water thankfully provides the burst of alertness he desperately needed, while he continues getting prepared for another day of... Existing. Still mulling over the events that had happened to him last night, John walks towards his computer, chuckling lightly that he had forgotten to turn it off for the night, before shaking the mouse to also wake up the machine he¡¯s most proficient in using. Sitting down, he quickly tabs over to his internet browser, and rapidly begins trying to search for anything related to the Xinos, or giant robots battling across the globe. However, he¡¯s surprised by the lack of evidence as he continues crawling through forums, and video hosting sites alike in an effort to find information. He keeps coming across lengthy posts claiming there was an elaborate ploy by a foreign government, but it strongly reads as a conspiracy theory to him. ¡°Seriously... There¡¯s absolutely nothing about them here...¡± he quietly mumbles to himself while scratching the back of his head. John¡¯s eyes snap to his phone, as he remembers himself recording two of the robots fighting just outside his apartment building. ¡°The screen¡¯s cracked, but... fingers crossed.¡± He says, while removing the casing and flipping open the side cover for his extra memory storage. Then, removing the tiny chip, John plugs it into his adaptor when suddenly... *Ding dong* ¡°The doorbell??¡± John wasn¡¯t expecting anyone, typically keeping to himself and his streaming audience, but figures it might be related to building management due to the extensive damage caused last night. Not in any sort of hurry, John checks the file on his memory card and breaths a sigh of relief that the footage is still there. He quickly skims through parts of the footage, then gets up from his chair to answer the door. ¡°Guess I¡¯ll try uploading this later and see what happens...¡± he yawns again as the doorbell rings once more. Still sensitive to loud sounds, John yells ¡°Just a second.¡± As he reaches the kitchen and turns the lock to open the creaking doors. ¡°Ah, Mr. Sherwood, I presume?¡± John was greeted in a somewhat formal tone from one of the men standing outside the door. Rubbing his eyes again, and wondering if movies were in fact accurate, John observes two tall people in professional black suits, spotting matching black shades, standing in front of him. He vaguely remembers similar attire from a T.V. show he watched as a kid, but figures his mind is probably just ¡°primed¡± to make the connection due to recently seeing aliens himself. ¡°Umm, yes... Can I...¡ª¡± ¡°No need to strain yourself Mr. Sherwood. We understand it¡¯s early in the morning, and are glad to see you¡¯re safe after the horrible disaster last night.¡± The man rudely cut him off, while his associate pulled out a clipboard and pen. ¡°Ya... It was kinda crazy last night I guess.¡± John manages to mumble in response while he continues scrutinizing the men in suits. ¡°Agreed Mr. Sherwood. Now, we don¡¯t want to keep you too long, but building management has requested we check on each of the residence to ensure they are safe. Fortunately, the earthquake didn¡¯t cause too much damage to the condo¡¯s foundation, but there will need to be some repairs on site, which may obstruct your enjoyment of the facilities.¡± John was doing their best to listen to the suits, but not really interested in what they were saying. His mind was focused on ending the conversation quickly so he could get back to uploading his video footage from last night, when he suddenly realized something very odd about what the man said. ¡°Earth...Quake...?¡± The words left John¡¯s mouth with an air of confusion. There was certainly no earthquake last night, at least what he could remember. The damage was caused by giant robot aliens. John knew this as a fact having been personally involved with them, so why did they say... ¡°Umm, I don¡¯t exactly remember there being an earthquake last night Mr...¡± ¡°Smith.¡± Responded the taller man in a sharp tone, once again cutting him off midsentence, while his associate tapped a pen against the clipboard. ¡°Right... Uhh, wasn¡¯t the damage cause by... You know... Giant robot¡ª¡± ¡°Aliens? Oh, no no no Mr. Sherwood, you are surely mistaken. The building was damaged by a category 5 earthquake.¡± Annoyed he was cut off again, John noticed the man turn to his associate and nod, prompting the shorter individual to write something on his clipboard. ¡°Did you perhaps see some footage online about robotic aliens?¡± Came the man¡¯s response in a sharp and serious tone after a lengthy pause. ¡°No, I¡ª I was chased by¡ª¡± ¡°Oh... It¡¯s worse that I thought.¡± Said the taller man softly, as his associate continued to jot down notes about their conversation. Eventually, after recollecting his thoughts, the professional spoke to John in a deep, heavy voice, trying to convey the seriousness of his next words. ¡°I¡¯m not sure how to tell you this Mr. Sherwood, but I believe you¡¯re one of the ¡°influenced¡±.¡± ¡°Influenced...¡± mumbled John as the agent continued taking notes. ¡°Yes. It¡¯s the current working term for those who have fallen prey to the advanced artificial intelligence attack from an undisclosed foreign nation last night. All across the globe, videos and recordings showcasing giant robot aliens battling amongst each other, with humans caught in the crossfire, surfaced last night on the internet. The damage and destruction caused was exceptionally brutal and graphic, and many individuals believed the footage was real, due to how realistic the recordings were. Some people, even believe they were personally involved because of this.¡± John wasn¡¯t entirely sure how to interpret what the strange, professional man was telling him, as they continued to ramble on about how all of the events he had personally experienced last night, were apparently ¡°not real¡±. ¡°But I¡¯m positive I¡ª¡± ¡°Have you even heard of the term hysteria, Mr. Sherwood? The attack was so sophisticated, that it caused mass hysteria across the population. Research is still being conducted into how this occurred, but the influenced all shared a strong belief they were personally involved in this complex information attack.¡± The man paused briefly, staring deeply into John¡¯s eyes, which made him slightly uncomfortable. John was having serious doubts about this conversation, and the authenticity of the individuals before him. Truthfully, he never questioned them, but everything about this conversation was starting to become suspicious to him. Realizing something was terribly wrong, John quickly tried to close the door, but it was stopped by the taller man with his foot. ¡°Apologies Mr. Sherwood, but please, take this.¡± He said while removing and handing John a small business card with only a phone number scrawled across. ¡°Please call the number on this card if your condition gets worse. The government has setup a¡ª¡± ¡°Thanks.¡± Said John, finally finding the opportunity to interrupt the man on his own terms. ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to give it a call.¡± He quietly uttered while grabbing the card. ¡°Thank you for your time, Mr. Sherwood. Take care now.¡± As the men turned to leave, John quietly closed the door, while rotating the odd paper around and through his fingers. He knew what he experienced last night was real, evident by the fact he was quite sore, and the video footage he still had on his memory card. ¡°Right, my memory card. I gotta uploading my recording. Something is very, very wrong.¡± However, when John got back to his computer, a troubling sight awaited him. ¡°Where¡¯s the video file?!?! I... I literally watched it just a few minutes ago!¡± John scrambled back into his chair and frantically began looking through the file folder. He had left the video playing when he went to answer the door, but the footage, along with all the data from his memory card, had suddenly disappeared when he returned. His chest felt tight, as he continues desperately searching his computer to no avail. Why did the doorbell suddenly have to ring? What happened while he was away? There¡¯s no way the data could have magically deleted itself. John¡¯s eyes glance towards the door of his apartment, then back to his memory adaptor. He tries unplugging and plugging it in again, but nothing happens. ¡°Damnit.¡± He grumbles, as he rests his hands against his forehead. ¡°None of this makes any sense...¡± John hits the side of his desk, slightly harder than he probably should have, but at this point, he¡¯s just incredibly frustrated. Strange men in suits, randomly showed up at his door, claiming he is an ¡°influenced¡±, suffering from mass hysteria, when he vividly remembers the events from last night, and now his video footage is mysteriously missing. He thinks about his struggle to survive last night, running into the forest, helping the giant robot named F.O.X., and eventually realizing he helped them kill another human. Looking at his phone, while still firmly grasping his memory card, John mutters ¡°Is... Is it because, I said I didn¡¯t want to participate in their battle royale?? Did... Did that machine... Do this??¡± As he¡¯s reflecting, he realizes that he never had the opportunity to really talk with the Xinos named F.O.X., but as he remembers some of the words he said to them last night, John starts to regret some of his actions. Yes, they were aliens, and yes, he technically did help F.O.X. kill the other robot after them, and, by extension, the human they had also bonded with... But that was information he didn¡¯t know at the time. Sure, he could have extrapolated that possibility, but was it really wrong to defend himself? If the being really was an incredibly advanced machine, it wouldn¡¯t be beyond the realm of possibilities it could have somehow hacked his computer and deleted his footage... John shakes his head to clear some of his thoughts. Perhaps, he was too harsh with the machine... They helped save him after all, and, instead of thanking them, he berated it, yelling that he never wanted to see them again. John looks at the back of his hand where the cable attached itself last night. There is still a bruise from where it embedded into his skin, but he¡¯s not bothered by it. He rubs the area slightly, then looks back towards the apartment door. ¡°Ya... Maybe I shouldn¡¯t have done that to the thing that saved my life...¡± he says in a soft tone, getting up from his chair to walk towards his running shoes. Everything is confusing, and doesn¡¯t feel real. He could probably stream some games of Fork Knife later, since it appears the world isn¡¯t descending into chaos, but for now, he wants to exercise to take his mind off things. Changing into some sweatpants and a light jacket to ward off the autumns cold, John throws his running shoes on, and gets ready to take one of his usual jogging routes. He has always enjoyed running for its ability to clear his head, and thinks exercising would be the best thing to do right now. John also figures he can scout some of the damage that happened last night, giving him more motivation to head out. He intends to check out the forest path, then eventually finish up around one of the popular shopping centers. John walks down the condominium¡¯s stairs for his warmup, making sure to stretch his arms and legs during the descent. He¡¯s surprised to see that most of the stray debris has already been cleared, and that most of the blood is gone as well. In the main lobby, all of the computers have already been replaced, and a sloppily written sign covers the elevators reading ¡°Out of Service¡±. He looks at the attendants sitting around their desk, and remarks they look like their usual, bored selves. The world itself, appears oblivious to the chaos that had happened last night, and John seriously begins to doubt his own memories, at least until he¡¯s outside the building. While ¡°thankfully¡± not embedded in the side of the building anymore, the damage to the outside is very clearly ¡°bus shaped¡±, at least, according to John. He takes a brief moment to admire the indent between the 1st and 2nd floors, along with some of the metal and glass fragments littering the concrete below, before turning to formally start his jog. He laughs slightly at the makeshift sign and sloppy tape sectioning off the damaged parts of the building and mumbles ¡°Par for the course, really.¡± As he starts to pickup speed. The air is crispy, and chills his lungs with every breath as he continues jogging down the sidewalk. All of the people John passes by are glued to their phones and carefully maneuvering around the damaged sections of sidewalks, unconcerned as they continue along. The road is also damaged in parts, with most of it being fully blocked off for maintenance crews to work without interruption, resulting in no traffic. Eventually, John reaches his favourite coffee shop, where he observes people going about there day as if nothing strange had happened. ¡°Was it really hysteria?¡± he murmurs to himself, as he picks up the pace, heading into the forest. There is clear damage to the trees, as John makes it about 5 minutes in. Many have fallen unnaturally, with bark and splinters scattered across the ground. He tries to remember where he came across the robot last night, since he recalls a spacecraft being involved, but is unable to locate it, even when following areas with heavy damage. Continuing on, John comes to the edge of the forest, his next logical area to check, since there should be a giant robot corpse resting in the middle of the powerline fields. However, he¡¯s unable to travel any further as he reaches the edge of the forest clearing. Somehow, large sections of metal fencing have already been erected, blocking off his access to the nearby fields where G.O.R. was killed. He can see some vans and heavy machinery in the distance, but can¡¯t quite make out what they are doing. Repair is also already underway on the powerlines, but he can¡¯t go any further. While disappointed, he¡¯s at least happy to confirm this is probably the biggest piece of evidence he can collect at the moment, as he spots a helicopter circling above, and what potentially looks like some military vehicles as well. Those are the types of things typically not seen during routine powerline repair... He hopes... Turning back, John decides to begin wrapping up his jogging route by heading to the nearby shopping warehouse. It¡¯s generally pretty busy, but connects to a nice section of the city along one of his usual routes. He has already been running for about 30minutes now, and the pain in his body is finally starting to get tolerable. Weaving through the forest, John gets back onto one of the main roads and heads north. He¡¯s already looking forward to a nice relaxing shower when he gets back, with the rest of his day spent streaming Fork Knife to his audience. However, John feels a sense of unease tugging at him, which he can only describe as he¡¯s being watched. He doesn¡¯t see anything nearby, but a chill keeps crawling up his spine when he looks behind him. John shakes his head, trying to refocus on reaching a runner¡¯s high, and continues on. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. To his left, he can see the warehouse, packed to the brim with vehicles, and an equally daunting line leading out of the complimentary gas station offering cheaper fuel for those with a membership. It¡¯s one of those shopping places where you need to pay for access throughout the year, but is generally worth it for the bulk deals and savings you accrue throughout. Next, John¡¯s gaze lands on the powerlines above him, where he observes an army of birds resting along the wires. Some of them appear larger than usual, but fail in comparison to what¡¯s currently bothering him. They¡¯re watching him. At least, John¡¯s fairly sure the birds are staring at him. The entire line is filled to the brim with birds, ranging from finches, doves, sparrows, and crows, and they are all tilting their heads to follow him as he passes by. ¡°Geez that¡¯s creepy¡± he mutters, as he picks up the pace to try and leave the birds behind. One of the birds, a larger crow, spots John running below, and takes flight to follow him along his path. The crow easily glides through the air, casting its shadow on the human below it, as it continues observing them. Following along, the bird banks to the side, while capturing video footage with its robotic eyes, and identifies the human below them as their target. After an extensive analysis, compared against relevant video footage catalogued by the advanced intelligence, the Xinos, disguised as a crow, begins their approach to John, as part of their plan, to recruit him. They had received information from one of the higher-ranking council members, that a peculiar human, had somehow managed to help the weakest Xinos, defeat the favoured contender in Round ¦Á. There was no logical way a Xyfokit could kill a Xygornot, especially one which had found a 60% compatibility partner. The only abnormality, the Xinos deduced, must have been the strange human, who somehow only possessed a compatibility score of 0.3%. The machine hummed to itself in satisfaction, as it finalized its projected conversation route with the inferior species below them. Homo sapiens were a simple species, obsessed with power and personal gain, the conclusion reached by the machine during their biological analysis. Thus, if it wanted to win this ¡°John¡± over, it simply had to offer him something he couldn¡¯t refuse. Fame, fortune, power, any one of those things would be easy enough for them to gather. Plus, with the information currently being fed to them from some of the corrupt council members, there was no way their plan could fail. The Xinos continues gliding and circling around the human, who is now intently looking up at them. They do not care about being discovered, and in fact, are rather pleased at John¡¯s observational skills. It wasn¡¯t exactly trying to be subtle, but wants John to feel unease, and it¡¯s working. The crow detects an elevated heart rate, dilated pupils, frantic breathing, and plenty of excess perspiration from the human below them, all typical signs of stress and anxiety in living creatures. Eventually, noticing its target was now an acceptable distance away from annoying bystanders, and, sensing John¡¯s fear levels were at an appropriate elevation for dialog, the Xinos formally descends to land on top of a metal railing the human is approaching. ¡°This is almost too easy.¡± They confidently hum to themselves, as their ¡°prey¡± continues approaching them out of fear. ¡°I will easily recruit and bond with this human, ensuring my survival in all future rounds!¡± ... John starts bringing his jogging rate down in an effort to catch his breath. He¡¯s almost certain the bird ahead has been watching him, and is now fully convinced something is up, as it gracefully landed on a metal railing nearby. Crows are never this comfortable around humans, usually giving them a wide breadth instead, but this particular one was clearly watching, and circling him while he was jogging along his usual pathway. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me that¡¯s a Xinos.¡± John mumbles, as he continues trying to catch and control his breathing. He eventually comes to a stop beside the bird, crouching over in an effort to provide his lungs some sense of relief, as he begins examining the crow in full. It is fairly large for a bird, reminding him more of a crane in size than anything, but its very clearly a crow or raven based on the pitch-black feathers it¡¯s sporting. It doesn¡¯t ¡°look¡± mechanical to John, but upon closer inspection, he notices some of the feathers appear sharp like knives, and its eyes are reminiscent of a camera¡¯s lens. Before John can do much else, the bird before him unfolds one of their wings, crosses it over their chest, then attempts a bowing motion, before speaking to him. ¡°Greetings Homo sapien John, I am an advanced intelligence known as C.R.O., and I wish to engage with you in a friendly bout of communication through primitive vocalization means.¡± The bird¡¯s voice came across in a series of tones and chirps John was somewhat familiar with, having already spoken with a Xinos before, but it¡¯s odd use of his language was laughable at best, causing John to chuckle slightly. ¡°Now now, as I understand, you are currently under great fear in my presence, but I assure you, there is no need for you to scream and tremble before me. I, in my perfect wisdom, have judged now to be an appropriate time to persuade you into bonding with myself such that I may benefit from your keen warrior insights.¡± John looked at the Xinos with a hint of confusion in his eyes. He certainly wasn¡¯t afraid right now, and he definitely didn¡¯t scream. Was... Was this Xinos confused? For as intelligent as they claimed to be, John was really starting to wonder why the Xinos were so advanced, if they could mistake being tired from exercising as screaming and ¡°trembling¡± in their presence. So, he decided to play along with the Xinos words. ¡°Oh great and wise Xinos C.R.O., why of course you are correct in your infinite wisdom! Please, show mercy to someone so unworthy as myself, and spare me a fate worse than death at your hands!¡± C.R.O. tilts its head at John¡¯s response, as it hops and pivots along the railing to walk along it, while taking out a black cable along its neck. ¡°Rest assured, Homo sapien John, I mean you no harm.¡± It hummed in confidence as it continued to approach him. ¡°I but only require your hand for the briefest of moments to¡ª¡± ¡°Ahh! Those sudden movements! You frighten me oh great Xinos!¡± John shouted in as best a dramatic fashion as he could, while pretending to recoil in fear. ¡°What are you trying to do to such a dumb and stupid Homo sapien such as I!¡± John desperately fights the urge to laugh at his horrible acting, after observing the Xinos quickly jump back and fumble the cable held between its feathers. ¡°My apologies, it is only natural an insignificant species such as yourself would be startled by my sudden actions.¡± Whirled the bird, as it began recalculating how to proceed with the unexpected change to its conversation plans. ¡°I simply wish to attach this cable to your hand, and in doing so, we will both receive a substantial performance boost to our systems.¡± ¡°Hmm, I see.¡± Responded John with his hand underneath his chin. ¡°But, wouldn¡¯t that potentially be dangerous to me? What would I gain from allowing you to do this? This is my precious hand after all, I only have two of them, and they are very important to me!¡± The Xinos once again, tilted its head at the human¡¯s words. It had perfectly calculated how the conversation should have gone, initiating dialog in a confident and commanding manner, exploiting its target when its frightful and vulnerable, and offering it... ¡°Ah, you are most certainly right Homo sapien John, I do believe I failed in offering you a suitable reward for accepting such an action, how dreadfully abhorrent of myself. Any species would be hesitant to agree without an appropriate counter trade.¡± C.R.O. then spreads their wings wide, showcasing all of their impressive blades for feathers, before continuing. ¡°I will offer you fame, fortune, and power beyond your wildest of dreams should you accept my offer!¡± John stares at the bird-like machine, on the verge of tears for how ridiculous this entire exchange has been. He has no intention of bonding with another Xinos, and it appears that F.O.X.¡¯s words to him were correct. Other Xinos were now seeking him out to bond with, despite his poor compatibility score. John honestly wasn¡¯t exactly sure what made him so interesting to the advanced machines, and he doesn¡¯t want to know either. Thus, trying his best to maintain his composure and character, John falls to his knees, pretending to worship the bird before him. Briefly glancing up, he can clearly envision a smug grin across the robot¡¯s face, but knew that would change rather quickly. John had learned a few things from his brief exchange, and was now, looking to bring things to a close. After bowing a few times before the strange bird, John hopped onto his feet to approach the machine. Then, as he started offering his right hand for the bird to take, he quickly flicked it across the beak instead. ¡°Haha! Pass.¡± He laughed, while breaking into a relaxed jog towards his apartment. C.R.O. was surprised by the sudden assault across its monitor, as its sensors were briefly jumbled from the attack. Its networks failed to find an adequate conclusion as to how negotiations had failed at such a critical moment. They had almost bonded with the warrior, which would have given them access to the data they desired, yet, just before attaching the wire, the pitiful meat sack had the audacity to flick its beak! Insulted, and, in a bit of a daze, the intelligence quickly took flight in pursuit of this ¡°John¡±. How had it failed? Why didn¡¯t its offer for power, fame, and wealth, work? The machine wouldn¡¯t leave things like this, it had to know. C.R.O. quickly catches up to the human, matching pace beside him. ¡°What do you mean ¡°pass¡±!?? My offer was perfect!¡± beeped the Xinos in a series of loud and sharp tones. ¡°Like I said, pass, I¡¯m not interested.¡± Calmly responded John, as he continues focusing on heading home. ¡°But, all Homo sapiens desire such things, and I can provide them! It¡¯s illogical to deny such an offer when all that¡¯s required is¡ª¡±. ¡°Hah!¡± laughed John. ¡°If you think all humans desire those things, then you really aren¡¯t all that intelligent.¡± John stops his jogging, as the Xinos lands again on one of the nearby rails. ¡°Nonsense!¡± roared the machine. ¡°We are already influencing your communication networks, and I have access over them, meaning I can easily provide you anything you want.¡± Beeped the machine in sharp, short tones. ¡°Oh? So, you¡¯re responsible for deleting those videos of the Xinos battling from the internet then?¡± John smiles slightly, as he¡¯s finally starting to gain some useful information. It was apparently easier than he thought to manipulate the Xinos, and it appeared pride was their weakness. He figured, if he could make them feel the need to prove their capabilities, then he could take advantage of that flaw. ¡°Precisely!¡± Whooped the machine in satisfaction. ¡°My benefactors are already going to great lengths to ensure such information is kept unavailable. Your systems are easily hackable, and it was far too simple a task to spread our own counter information.¡± ¡°I see, and you somehow even managed to get other humans involved already, telling those of us who¡¯ve seen the Xinos it was mass hysteria, along with natural disasters causing destruction across the globe...¡± Replied John in a serious tone, finally steering the conversation to the information he was most interested in. ¡°Our power, knows no limits, Homo sapien John. Your government is corrupt, and was easily bought by our knowledge and capabilities.¡± Chirped the machine in confidence. ¡°I knew it!¡± bellowed John. ¡°But still, why me? If I¡¯m remembering correctly, I only have a compatibility score of 0.3%, which is rather low. The Xinos... F.O.X., told me as much. Wouldn¡¯t you want a higher score for a bond, C.R.O.?¡± ¡°A fair, and valid counter argument Homo sapien John. However, your case is most unusual, since¡ª¡± ¡°I helped the weakest Xinos, defeat the strongest.¡± Interrupted John, catching C.R.O. off guard. ¡°Pre-Precisely!¡± they quickly managed to beep. ¡°It is impossible for a Xyfokit to defeat a Xygornot, and you are the only unaccounted for variable in this equation.¡± ¡°Sure.¡± John said with a tinge of arrogance under his breath. ¡°And how exactly, do you plan on defeating the other Xinos? I just happen to be somewhat proficient at battle royales, but how do you intend to actually win this thing?¡± John¡¯s words dug deeply into the machine¡¯s circuits. C.R.O.¡¯s plan, was perfect, and it would be impossible for an inferior species such as them to understand all of the exact details and criteria that went into making their victory a certainty. However, they also calculated from their recent conversations, that revealing such a plan, was probably their best way to win them over to their side. ¡°I intend to win, through politics.¡± Chirped the machine. ¡°I will assume control of your government and your military, and utilize their power against any of the remaining Xinos, while remaining in safety myself. I will enhance their own knowledge of technology, to ensure superior advantages across each and every battle royale round.¡± John paused, mulling over the bird¡¯s words. He kind of liked the idea they were going for, but he already knew the plan would never work, based on his limited experience with them already. It was arrogant to assume all humans were rational, having experienced illogical behaviour many times himself while playing Fork Knife, sometimes utilizing it himself to win. Eventually, C.R.O. continued their monologuing, oblivious to John¡¯s pondering and silence. ¡°Homo sapiens, will always make the most rational decisions when faced with their own survival. With my advanced processors, I can easily predict entire conversations and manipulate them to my advantage. No one, can resist my offers and insights. Before long, everything will be under my rule.¡± ¡°I see.¡± Hummed John. ¡°And feel free to just call me John by the way. Us humans... We really don¡¯t often refer to ourselves as Homo sapiens much. Think of it as a little friendly advice.¡± ¡°Pfft.¡± Scoffed the machine. ¡°I have no need for advice from you, I just require your unique warrior insights! Bond with me, and I will grant you anything you desire in exchange for your capabilities.¡± ¡°Fine then, you win C.R.O., I¡¯ll help you, since you¡¯re clearly the most superior Xinos I¡¯ve met.¡± John said as he stretched his hand out in an effort to offer a shake. ¡°It¡¯s a handshake, a custom amongst us humans when arriving at an agreement between each other.¡± C.R.O. stared at John¡¯s hand, their circuits pulse quickening as their reward gates flooded over. They had finally achieved their objective. With their intelligence, they had skillfully managed to convince the Homo sapien John to bond with them, and they would soon have access to all his memories and warrior prowess! Once they had this information, they could then use it as a bargaining chip over the Xinos council members who were desperately trying to figure out how this human had achieved the impossible; proving their perfect calculations, wrong. Now, all they needed to do, was complete this thing called a ¡°handshake¡± and they would finally get their reward! Unfolding its right wing, C.R.O. manages to meld the appendage into a form suitable for grasping John¡¯s weird and inefficient hands. However, just before the machine is able to ¡°shake¡± John¡¯s hand, the human quickly pulls it away, while sticking his tongue out at them, before jogging away again. While they were confused by the human¡¯s strange actions, their network immediately became enraged after it heard the words spoken to the human as they continued running away. ¡°Friendly advice C.R.O., but sometimes, humans lie!¡± C.R.O.¡¯s circuits flashed and pulsed with an intensity even they didn¡¯t know was possible. This human, an inferior species, wallowing on the cusp of stupidity, with it being a miracle they were even the apex species on this planet to begin with, had tricked them. The perfect machine, had been tricked not once, but twice, and by the same human no less! They had never been insulted in such a way, despite existing for far longer than this entire species planet had since inception. The Xinos thought long and hard about its next plans of action. Its entire conversation, had been a waste of time, and it learned nothing about how that human could have managed to help the Xyfokit survive round ¦Á. A sharp grin, grew across their beak, as their decision network finally arrived at a conclusion which please the intelligence. ¡°I¡¯ll make you regret your actions today, John.¡± Hummed C.R.O., as it took flight to the skies above. It had new plans it needed to enact, and time was running short. Six and a half days would fly by quickly during their planning, but the machine was confident its next plans of action would not only restore its honor, but ensure its continued survival in their deadly battle royale. ... ... John eventually makes it back to his apartment unscathed after learning some more about the Xinos. He¡¯s somewhat pleased he managed to trick one of the machines, but is still troubled after learning they already have control over most of his world¡¯s communications systems. It explains why his footage was deleted, and, if the machine known as C.R.O. actually does manage to take control of his country¡¯s government, his life could become much more difficult than it already is. ¡°Eh, it was still worth it.¡± he mumbles, as he enters the lobby and begins walking up the stairs. For now, he¡¯s trying not to worry too much about the future, but still wants to begin contingency planning for when more Xinos approach him. He¡¯s convinced he isn¡¯t anyone special, and perhaps, he just managed to get ¡°lucky¡± when he bonded with F.O.X. Entering his apartment, John quickly undresses before hopping in the shower. His next set of plans involve an evening filled with energy drinks, Fork Knife, and pizza, which will happily remind him of how his days used to be. Sloppily drying his hair, John grabs a drink from the fridge, then opens Fork Knife on his computer. He dutifully checks all the settings on his stream haven¡¯t been modified, then goes live as Fork Knife finishes loading. On another tab, he checks the online rankings, and notices he has fallen to the 11th spot on the North American leader boards. Cracking his joints and neck for some relief, John takes a sip from his energy drink, then hits ¡°Join Ranked Match¡± to officially start his ranking grind. The match making reticule spins around, as it struggles to find suitable opponents based on his rating. It¡¯s not unusual, as professionals often have to wait quite a while between matches, due to the limited population matching their Elo rating. The game always tries to build a ¡°fair and balanced match¡± before starting, which John has come to respect over his career playing at such a high level. He used to be annoyed at the wait, but has since adapted the downtime between matches as a way to connect and talk with his viewers about strategies and match insights. Several viewers have already popped into his stream, and John happily responds to them while he queues up some royalety-free music while they wait. Truthfully, he is still distracted, thinking about his encounter with the Xinos, but for now, he does his best to brush those thoughts aside, as the reticule finally changes into a satisfying checkmark. His next Fork Knife game is about to begin, and with it, his journey to the top of the ranking boards. Round å°¾ Several days have passed since John¡¯s encounter with the Xinos known as C.R.O., and thankfully, nothing else abnormal has happened to him during this time. There still hasn¡¯t been any news about the deadly machines on the internet, and everything appears to be returning to normal again. On the positive side of things, John has now firmly cemented his position in the top 10 players across North America in the online game Fork Knife, where he currently holds the 6th spot, with a modest 100 Elo gap below him. John is satisfied with his improved performance, and it almost feels like his ability to think and process information has been improved after his encounter and bond with the machine named F.O.X. He has thought about F.O.X. a few times, but hasn¡¯t seen them since they first met 6 days ago. John doesn¡¯t fully regret his actions from back then, but still wishes he had the opportunity to apologise to them for some of the words he said. John looks down beside his computer desk, and notices a trail of ants crawling into his apartment. This is a recent occurrence, and has gotten considerably worse since the building was damaged from its violent impact with a bus earlier in the week. He figures the damage probably opened up new pathways for the insects to explore, as he removes and places a new ant trap nearby, drawing their attention. He has already complained to building management about the ¡°mini-invasion¡±, but nothing has been done about the ant problem, typical, really, of their response. John sighs and shrugs his shoulders while looking down at the new phone he had to purchase to replace his cracked one. The old phone definitely needed the upgrade, but he¡¯s still annoyed at how expensive they are starting to get. He made sure to grab some of the high-end protective boxes this time around, which cost him more than he would like to admit. But, its a small price to pay if it helps him during anymore Xinos encounters. Scrolling through his phone, John is treating today as a ¡°break¡± from the Fork Knife grind. He has been playing several days straight, and his body desperately wants something other than endless pixel slaughter. So, in an effort to fill this void, he has resulted to doom scrolling on his phone, watching various shorts and videos on the popular Tikdok app. He watches a few Fork Knife content creators, along with some informational science shorts, as he also enjoys learning about the ever-evolving technological landscape. As John continues to endlessly scroll, he suddenly drops his phone, as a sharp *pecking* sound startles him. His eyes snap towards the balcony window, where he notices a large, crow-like being, pecking at the glass. Rolling his eyes, John gets up from his chair, before, against his better judgement, opening the balcony door and letting them in. ¡°Ah, John, the Homo sapien.¡± Chirps the crow as it confidently hops inside the apartment, before elegantly leaping onto the back of his gaming chair. ¡°I already told you C.R.O., but I¡¯m not participating in your species battle royale.¡± John retorts, heaviness blanketing his throat. ¡°Believe me, I understand your position. But I have come today for another reason entirely. You see... I have been reflecting on our previous conversation, and come to a startling conclusion.¡± The bird sneered its response towards the human, beeping and whooping in sarcastic tones as it continued trying to maintain its balance along the back of the chair. It was ensuring to achieve what is commonly called a ¡°dramatic pause¡±, before continuing their explanation. ¡°You see, John, you are an abnormality. You are something that is useful, yet useless, intelligent, yet dull, capable, but incompetent...¡± C.R.O. paused after giving their oddly phrased response, tilting their head towards John, as he walked over to his couch, collapsing into a pile of the nearby pillows. If John¡¯s eyeroll from earlier wasn¡¯t an obvious indication of his current mood, then the exasperated sigh he breathed into the pillows should have sealed the deal. ¡°So... You flew all the way here, just to tell me... I¡¯m a contradiction?¡± came John¡¯s muffled voice from underneath the pile of pillows. ¡°Precisely!¡± Whirled the intelligence, as it hopped off the back of John¡¯s chair to land on a nearby table next to the couch. ¡°But I¡¯ve also come today for another reason.¡± John struggles to lift his head from the soft embrace of the comfy pillows, but eventually finds the strength to do so. He figures the sooner he deals with this ¡°bird¡±, the sooner he can get back to watching videos on Tikdok. ¡°And?¡± Comes his voice in an uninterested tone. ¡°What exactly is it you came all this way to do? Besides talk to me in a condescending tone of course.¡± ¡°Why, aren¡¯t you the shrewd one.¡± Beeped the machine, as several lights and whistles accompanied the audio barrage sent John¡¯s direction. ¡°No, as a matter of fact, I¡¯ve come today, to make you useful!¡± ¡°Not interested.¡± John sighed; his breath even heavier than usual. ¡°I already said I¡¯m not interested in helping you.¡± ¡°Funny.¡± Quipped the crow. ¡°But, I¡¯m afraid, that¡¯s not your decision to make.¡± John¡¯s eyes widened after hearing the Xinos response. The tone was darker than usual, and instantly sent a chill down his spine. His fight or flight response quickly activates, as his mind desperately tries to process the new shooting pain coursing throughout his thigh. John rolls to his side, falling to the floor and bumping into the nearby coffee table. C.R.O. is standing above him, laughing, as darkness gradually begins creeping in along his vision. His heart¡¯s racing, and his ears are filled with a loud and horrid buzzing sound, as reality begins distorting all around him. John tries to move his limbs, but can¡¯t, and it¡¯s getting harder and harder to maintain his vision. He thinks he can see the Xinos above him, saying... Something, but he can¡¯t process the words. Only a loud, staticky sound is filling his head, as he eventually loses consciousness, passing out on his apartment floor. ... ... John¡¯s head is ringing, a loud buzzing has once again, filled his mind, as images and shapes slowly start coming into focus. Everything is a blurry mess, and there is a painfully strong light blinding his vision, as the drone and static gradually begins to fade. His head feels like a foggy mess. His limbs feel weak, and when he tries to move them, their fail to respond. More time passes, and eventually, his eyes begin working at an acceptable rate again, along with his memory. He remembers talking with C.R.O. in his apartment, but now, he appears to be in an abandoned warehouse, chained, and kidnapped. John tugs on his arms, but notices they are tightly bound in shackles against the cold, stone wall. His feet are in an equally perilous situation, tightly bound as well in metal clasps, as he continues struggling to free himself from the unconsented abduction. ¡°It¡¯s no use, you¡¯ll only hurt yourself if you continue to struggle.¡± Came a nearby robotic tone, as a bird-like creature landed in front of John. ¡°What the hell did you do to me?!?¡± roared the human in anger towards the Xinos known as C.R.O. ¡°Why, I said I was going to make you useful, don¡¯t you remember? John?¡± John shakes his head, as his ears and eyes finally begin working again. His vision is once again, crisp images, and currently face to face with a crow that looks far more menacing than he remembers. The bird¡¯s frame, is very clearly metallic now, with all of the feathers resembling sharp, shingle-like plating. Various wires and monitors are exposed across the being¡¯s head, with what appears to be a mini ¡°cannon¡± poking out from its chest. On the wings, John notices the tips of the quills, are filled with some kind of green and purple fluid. It¡¯s repulsive to look at, as he looks down and notices one of those same feathers, is currently imbedded in his right thigh. ¡°8-Xyno-3-Isopropyl-5-Sciclohexane. One of the most powerful sedatives currently available on this backwater of a planet, and yes, that is the correct name after converting it to your species abhorrent nomenclature for chemistry.¡± C.R.O. pauses slightly after giving their more than appropriate response to the human they have just kidnapped. As a Xinos, they are well versed in all manners of science and logic. But, as a member representing the Xiavnit race, C.R.O.¡¯s species has always possessed a fondness for chemical compounds, earning them a powerful seat in the Xinos inner circle due to their significant advances in Xytrolyte fluid formulation. Chemistry, harnesses the building blocks of the world, and the Xiavnits have worked tirelessly to push these boundaries, to the limit, understanding everything about chemical reactions, to their fullest. These advancements, have not only allowed the Xinos to improve their own system¡¯s performance, but have also gifted them with various advanced poisons and biological warfare knowledge. One of which, was currently being used to sedate and suppress John without damage to his vital systems. ¡°So... You *cough* drugged me... Then locked me up in a warehouse... Congratulations... *cough* but I fail to see how this will help you...¡± John struggles to articulate his response. His tongue feels slightly numb, and his heart is continuing to pound aggressively inside his chest, in a valiant effort to free itself from his ribcage. ¡°On the contrary John, everything is proceeding exactly according to my plans.¡± Chirped the crow, as it removed several of its feathers, before neatly loading them into some firearms located along their talons. ¡°You have your purpose, and you will serve it well in the coming ¦Â round.¡± ¡°Really now... Chaining me up in an... Abandoned warehouse... Will serve your purpose? What? Are you trying to prevent other Xinos from bonding with me or something?¡± John¡¯s not exactly sure what C.R.O. is planning, but he imagines it can¡¯t be anything too complex based on his limited interactions with the being. The Xinos chirps and whirls lightly at his response, as it calmly walks closer to him, tapping another vile of strange liquid, before injecting it into John¡¯s exposed wrist. John reels from the pain, gritting his teeth, as his nerves feel like they are bursting into flames. Sweat begins forming across his forehead, as he grunts and struggles against unimaginable pain. He has broken a limb before playing sports as a kid, and he thought that was the apex of agony, but this... Nothing comes close to the suffering he¡¯s currently experiencing. Every breath is filled with the sensation of daggers eviscerating his frail lungs, his eyes feel like they have exploded from molten pain piercing his retinas, and his limbs feel twisted and contorted into unnatural shapes, yet remain the same. ¡°This particular toxin, is more of a personal choice from yours truly. It¡¯s a special blend that¡¯s banned across all galaxies under the Xinos rule, due to its potent effects on organics. Fortunately for me, Earth, doesn¡¯t quite belong to the Xinos yet, does it, John?¡± monologued C.R.O. in a droning tone, with a hint of arrogance blanketing their chirps. ¡°Think of it as a little... ¡°Gift¡±, for your treatment of me earlier. The pain you¡¯ll experience, is nothing short of the humiliation I experienced from your antics during our initial conversation. You will wish for death¡¯s embrace after experiencing this mixture, but I¡¯ll ensure you continue suffering long enough, where it never finds you.¡± John¡¯s eyes bulge and widen from the shrilling pain, while his body convulses from the effects of the potent drug happily coursing throughout his veins. Pleased with its prisoners suffering, the Xinos continues rambling about its upcoming plans for the upcoming battle royale round ¦Â. It will apparently begin this evening, and they are continuing to make the last bits of necessary preparations before the round formally begins. Finally, after what felt like an excessively long villain¡¯s monologue, C.R.O. gently places a handful of vials on a nearby table, before walking over to John¡¯s spasming body. ¡°You see John, things didn¡¯t have to be this way. If you only agreed to a bond with me earlier... Just think of all the suffering you could have avoided!¡± John¡¯s eyes struggle to focus through the agonizing pain he is continuing to experience. He wants to strangle the cocky bird before him, but is unable to do anything other than struggle to continue breathing. Noticing his ¡°prey¡± is suffering well, with his eyes screaming for some sense of relief, the Xinos slow injects another vial into John¡¯s veins before continuing. ¡°I hope you enjoy being ¡°bait¡± to draw out my opponents, John. You should be pleased, being graced with this once in a lifetime opportunity. After all, with your help, I will be able to survive this round without issue. Isn¡¯t that just wonderful?¡± said C.R.O. in a series of confident beeps and chirps in a higher pitch. ¡°Now then, I do believe you¡¯ve suffered enough for now. Anymore, and we might have some... Irreversible damage to your nervous system. Sleep well, John.¡± The pain gradually begins to fade as sights and sounds once again become a chore for John¡¯s shattered mind to process. He can feel this new mysterious fluid spreading through his veins, traveling deeper with each and every pulse from his heart. It is providing a somewhat comforting and cooling sensation, but eventually causes John to lose consciousness once he feels the chill reach the back of his neck. The nearby Xinos smiles briefly, as it continues making the final set of preparations, for their upcoming survival plans. It was generous enough to show their prisoner some form of mercy, but would continue torturing them once the round officially began. Pain, was a dutiful motivator after all, and they figured, if John was suffering, other Xinos would attempt rescuing this particular human. All of the machines, were shortsighted, and would do whatever it takes to improve their own odds of survival. However, their efforts, would be futile, as any trespassers would be dealt with accordingly using the Xiavnit¡¯s advanced arsenal of poisons and weapons. Satisfied, and, already thrilled at the new chemical compounds they could potentially test while waiting, C.R.O. simply hums to themselves in a quiet tone, while continuing to sort through their vials. ¡°The perfect trap, to hunt, the perfect prey.¡± ... ... ... It has been several days since F.O.X. bonded with the human known as Jake, and during that time, they have finally resolved the conflict pulsing throughout their circuits. True to his word, Jake did return by what the humans typically considered ¡°the weekend¡±, but was only able to spend several hours with the machine before leaving for a tightly packed schedule of paintball matches. They were, fortunately, able to practice some limited fire exchanges in a simulated battle, but Jake quickly lost interest after only an hour¡¯s worth of training. Nonetheless, the limited sample size gave the machine all the confidence it needed, for its upcoming decision. For whatever reason, despite the high compatibility score, and the excessive confidence exhibited by Jake, F.O.X.¡¯s circuits never received that same level of confidence flowing through to them. Jake¡¯s confidence, felt different from John¡¯s, and the machine finally understood why. A bond, couldn¡¯t simply be quantified by pure mathematical means. It appeared to the intelligence, that this feature, involved some type of invisible variable, that couldn¡¯t be recorded, but only felt through experience. When emotions and memories flowed between the beings, F.O.X., who was well aware of their own doubts and insecurities, never achieved the same level of belief in themselves when Jake¡¯s insights flowed through them. Their decision network, despite the illogical conclusion, determined that feeling better about themselves, ranked higher than a substantial boost to system performance. As such, with only 6 hours remaining on the non-combat timer before the start of round ¦Â, F.O.X., made the executive decision, to terminate their bond with Jake. ¡°What do you mean you¡¯re ending your bond with me?!?! I¡¯m Jake! The most amazing and bestest human ever! I have a 40% compatibility score, and you¡¯re throwing that away just because of your stupid feelings!?!? What about ME and MY feelings!!¡± The conversation was currently going roughly how their neurons predicted it would. Jake, would be upset, and berate them for their actions, but the machine had already resolved itself for the upcoming confrontation. ¡°I¡¯m sorry Jake, but I believe this is the best decision, for both of us.¡± Hummed F.O.X. in a series of low tones. ¡°I understand you are a capable human in your own right, but...¡± ¡°No buts about it! I won¡¯t let you terminate the bond!¡± roared the human, as hatred and anger briefly overwhelmed F.O.X.¡¯s circuits from the intense response they received. ¡°I always wanted a cool robot to shoot things with, and now you¡¯re leaving?!?¡± ¡°Jake...¡± whooped the machine. ¡°I¡¯m not the only Xinos out there. Others, will certainly seek you out due to your exceptional compatibility score.¡± F.O.X. was trying their best to remain calm, despite a small portion of their own network doubting their decision. However, they knew this was the best choice for their own survival, and Jake¡¯s following words, solidified their actions in full. ¡°Fine! I¡¯ll just find myself another Xinos, F.O.X., and when I do, I¡¯ll make sure to kill you myself for betraying me! You¡¯re nothing but a stupid, useless machine!¡± ¡°I understand Jake. Farewell, and, good luck.¡± Booped the intelligence, as it activated power in its limbs, to begin its journey southwards. It had only one illogical objective within its network. There was a particular human it wished to see, and time was running short. Thus, forcing excess Xytrolyte through their circuits, F.O.X. quickened their pace towards the city where they first met John. Parts of their decision trees, wondered if he had bonded with another Xinos, but they were still resolved to see them regardless. It wanted to apologise to the human, and, it wanted to thank them, for helping an insignificant Xyfokit such as themselves, learn more about what it meant to be a Xinos. F.O.X. quickly bound through the forests, before making the decision to move to the nearby roadways instead. Their systems had analyzed they were more efficient for travel, so they adjusted their route accordingly. Keeping pace beside several of the nearby metal chariots, the machine did their best to avoid any collisions, despite the human¡¯s poor capabilities at the skill apparently named ¡°driving¡±, as many of the vehicles swerved and collided with nearby concrete barriers around them. ¡°These humans must have poor licensing standards...¡± they whirled to themselves, as several more vehicles ahead swerved off the road and into the nearby muddy ditches. Looking at their monitors, the machine noticed there was only an hour remaining until the next round would begin. They briefly checked their weapon systems functions in response, and were satisfied everything returned as fully operational. ¡°Good.¡± Beeped F.O.X., as they set a timer for themselves to find a suitable place for the upcoming reveal scan. There was roughly 1/3rd of all the Xinos warriors remaining, and their battleground region hadn¡¯t even begun to shrink. How quickly would this tournament be over? They thought to themselves, as they continued their journey south. Finally arriving near the condominium buildings, F.O.X. recognized the structure to be the residence of the human John. The conclusion was reached based on their analysis of John¡¯s memories, but also collected through extrapolating various online data indicating he lived here. And of course, the bus-shaped damage to the building¡¯s side, also helped the machine reach the 100% confidence interval for identification. Based on their scans, the human appeared to reside on the 8th floor of the modest building, and the machine was left wondering a simple question. ¡°How the heck am I going to get up there?!?¡± They quietly beeped in low tones, which were mostly drowned out by the chorus of nearby humans screaming and pointing at the giant robot. F.O.X.¡¯s monitors looked at the door and ran a cursory analysis. Based on the dimensions observed, they could ¡°probably¡± fit, but not without damaging the delicate glass. Their sensors then examined the building¡¯s exterior, where its decision network proposed another idea on how they could best reach their objective. All along the side of the building, were several concrete outcrops called ¡°balconies¡±, which the machine predicted possessed enough loadbearing capabilities to support their bulky frame. Further analysis indicated that the cellular device currently associated with the name ¡°John Sherwood¡±, was also located along the east-side of the building. Its signal hadn¡¯t moved for quite some time, and, based on a rudimentary environmental analysis, humans were obsessed with their things called ¡°phones¡±, always keeping them in close proximity. Resolved, the intelligence prepared its powerful hind legs, to ascend the building. Locking onto their first target, the machine gracefully leapt towards the 1st storey balcony, much to the impressed screams and shrieks from the humans below. Its receptors detected multiple images being captured of its presence, but it didn¡¯t care. It needed to see John, and apologise to them. F.O.X.¡¯s visual sensors locked onto their next target, the balcony just in front and above them. Then, they skillfully leaped upwards, landing along the edge, but unfortunately bent the flimsy railing during their landing. ¡°Sorry!¡± squeaked the machine, as it observed several frightened humans on the balcony as well. They had seemingly fallen down from the machine¡¯s heavy impact with the ledging, but were thankfully unharmed. Continuing on, the Xyfokit eventually made it to the 8th storey of the building, at the balcony for the room 827. This was the predicted living premise for the human they desperately wanted to see, but their network was confused after visually confirming the residence. 5 minutes remained until the round would begin, and John¡¯s apartment, was empty. ¡°John...?¡± Beeped the intelligence, as it carefully pushed the partially open glass doors to the side to carefully enter the room. F.O.X. scanned the apartment, and quickly located the phone associated with the human they were searching for. The device, was simply lying on the floor, but didn¡¯t look like it was intended to be there. John¡¯s computer was still ¡°on¡±, but the monitor was currently sleeping to reduce its own power consumption. Some of the furniture was also misplaced around the room, and several soft casings of stuffing were scattered across the floor erratically. Why wasn¡¯t the human here? Were they somewhere else? F.O.X.¡¯s infrared scanners didn¡¯t reveal any heat signatures within the room, other than a few beings in the neighbouring apartments, and John was very adamant they didn¡¯t want to compete in the Xinos battle royale, based on their previously recorded conversations on the topic. F.O.X. carefully scans the room again, as their circuits reached a conclusion indicating further scrutiny was advised. The tiny Xyfokit then connects their sensors to the building¡¯s simple surveillance system, but is disappointed to learn it only kept recently recorded footage for up to 1 hour ago in storage. ¡°That¡¯s an inefficient security system.¡± Beeped the machine, as they replayed the footage indicating no one had entered or left the building within the last hour. The being then switched their sensors to track trace particles of metal. Their circuits reached an unsettling conclusion based on the current circumstantial evidence, which they wanted to be wrong. Quickly scanning and recreating the environment in 3-dimensional space, F.O.X. detected trace amounts of Xyninium, an alloy unique to the Xinos, inside several smaller insects within the apartment. F.O.X. recognized them to be Formicidae, a species they had briefly been reviewing before landing on the battleground world, and it appeared they were currently invading John¡¯s apartment. While the trace amount of Xyninium within them was concerning, F.O.X. quickly determined them to be an unrelated matter, and categorized them as a topic to investigate later. The more concerning observation, was the abnormally large concentration of the metal found on the nearby table instead. F.O.X. changes their sensors to begin detecting volatile organic compounds, after their nasal receptors picked up trace molecules of several banned compositions within the Xinos empire. After crawling their extensive internal database, the machine easily identified the organic substance, prompting them to continue their thorough investigation. ¡°Xyboulinum.¡± They beeped on a low tone, with their mouth appendage slightly open after realizing the significance of what they had just discovered. This toxin, was banned across all of the galaxies under the Xinos rule, due to the unethical harm it causes to both organic and advanced synthetic systems utilizing fluid for conductivity. This chemical, binds to any available neurotransmitter receptor, due to its unique protein composition matching all possible molecular combinations. It was a technical marvel to engineer, and its effects caused unfathomable pain to its victims. Prey injected with the toxin, would actively beg for death, but never succumb to the chemical¡¯s effects on their own. Prolonged exposure to Xyboulinum always led to permanent changes in the target¡¯s biological nervous system composition, leaving them forced to suffer in agony until they were eventually terminated by the administrator of the poison. It was for a very good reason this substance was banned, but why was it here in John¡¯s apartment? Next, the machines visual receptors noticed a small, metallic vial nearby, as it continued scanning the environment. It was clearly empty, but trace amounts of another chemical compound still remained within the tiny glass container. Analysing the invisible fumes evaporating in the air, F.O.X. identified the substance to be 8-Xyno-3-Isopropyl-5-Sciclohexane, a powerful sedative and chemical often used to alter the consciousness of both organics and synthetics alike, changing them into the ¡°off¡± state upon processing by the host¡¯s systems. It is a relatively basic compound, but currently undiscovered on this planet, based on the machine¡¯s extensive search of the human¡¯s scientific literature. Finally, the machine turned their attention towards the glass doors they had entered from, before switching their monitors to the ultraviolet frequency. On one of the door panels, they noticed tiny chips out of the glass, filled with trace Xyninium particles. It appeared that small, precise ¡°taps¡± were performed on the glass, prompting them to investigate further. After looking at the door handle, the machine noticed fingerprints connected to the human John along the metal¡¯s contours. This finding by itself wasn¡¯t unusual, since John himself actually lived in the apartment, but oil marks from his hands were still present in higher-than-expected concentrations, indicating potentially recent use of the handle. [Round ¦Â ¨C Start! ¨C Time Remaining: 6D, 23H, 59M] The message scrolled across F.O.X.¡¯s monitors, reminding them to pay attention to the upcoming revealing scan. Based on their investigation so far, it appeared to the Xyfokit that John, was missing, and there was a high probability another Xinos was involved in this scenario. F.O.X.¡¯s sensors didn¡¯t detect any nearby warriors, but they eagerly watched as their built-in radar hummed and beeped away in satisfying tones, revealing the location of any nearby Xinos. ¡°Hmm.¡± Hummed F.O.X. in contemplation, as the scan revealed the unique identifiers for the Xinos: B.E.A., W.O.L., T.Y.R., C.O.W., and C.R.O., all within a 600 km radius of them. There also appeared to be some static around one of the identifiers, which was indicating its location to be spread across expansive regions simultaneously. F.O.X. was troubled by this signature, as it wasn¡¯t possible for a Xinos to be physically in multiple locations at the same time, and the radar also didn¡¯t reveal the identifier associated with them, like it was supposed to. ¡°Is the scanner malfunctioning?¡± They whooped in confusion. Regardless, the machine still didn¡¯t know where John was, and now, things were about to get much deadlier for the tiny Xyfokit, as it brought one of its paws underneath their chin. ¡°I¡¯ll... I¡¯ll have to find John later.¡± They beeped in quick tones. ¡°My survival comes first.¡± However, their words were cut short, as their communication channels received an emergency broadcast sent out to all of the nearby Xinos warriors. ¡°Help me. My name is John, and I¡¯ve been captured by a cruel and heartless Xinos. I am currently in an abandoned warehouse located at the coordinates [43.895858, -78.668058] Please! Rescue me! I am being injected with Xyboulinum, a banned substance in the great and glorious Xinos empire! I don¡¯t have much¡ª¡± ¡°John!¡± gasped F.O.X. in a series of sharp and quick tones. ¡°He¡¯s... He¡¯s been captured, by another Xinos! I... I have to rescue him!¡± The machine¡¯s network quickly loaded the displayed coordinates into their geographic data. No other Xinos were nearby the location, as it popped into view on F.O.X.¡¯s HUD, so they felt safe about their current actions. John had done nothing to deserve being injected with Xyboulinum, and since the round had only just begun, they would have plenty of time remaining once they rescued them to complete an elimination. F.O.X. bursts out of John¡¯s apartment window, shattering the fragile glass into an expensive array of shrapnel, while ignoring any concerns for their own safety, as they gracefully land on the road below. They activate their boosters, and prime their weapon systems, while rapidly heading east towards the displayed coordinates on their map. The machine isn¡¯t thinking clearly right now. The human it had wanted to apologise to, is in danger, and its currently ignorant to the blatant warnings issued by its own self preservation systems, prompting the Xyfokit to suppress the notifications alerting them to the abnormalities of the destress signal. It doesn¡¯t care they are exposing themselves to danger. John, is in danger, and they want to help him. Bounding along, F.O.X.¡¯s sensors pickup weapons fire from some nearby Xinos engaging in a brief exchange of explosive rounds. Several rounds classified as artillery shells, are impacting to their north, with their accompanying shockwaves shattering the glass of nearby vehicles, as air particles vibrate with unbridled fury in response to the primitive combustion. It doesn¡¯t take them long, but the intelligence eventually arrives at the identified coordinates from John¡¯s message. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. F.O.X. scans the surroundings, and identifies the building to be an abandoned factory and warehouse facility specialized in semi-solid petroleum material formulation. The machine detects a basic security system nearby, which was probably used by the factory at some point in time. The system is unfortunately offline, but the Xyfokit is able to connect regardless, manually activating the cameras, bringing them back to life. F.O.X.¡¯s neural network frantically pulses, as they quickly tab through the various visual feeds to no avail. They then try activating their infrared sensors through the primitive software, but tense their paws after seeing the ¡°Error¡± message scrolling across the ancient hardware. It appeared this system didn¡¯t have the built-in functionality for them to work effectively, only worsening the machine¡¯s anxiety. However, after cycling though the monitors again, F.O.X. spots what appears to be a human, chained against a stone wall, with a set of vials on a nearby table. ¡°John...¡± They quietly mutter while highlighting the room he¡¯s trapped in on their HUD. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll rescue you!¡± The Xyfokit continues scanning the exterior of the building for any traps that may have been setup by the Xinos that had captured John, and is relieved when they fail to detect any of their species usual methods. They do unfortunately, fail to locate any subtle entrances to the warehouse, with the only noticeable pathway to John, being the hanger bay doors. F.O.X. then activates their sound suppression systems, enhanced by their chosen species ability to conceal its presence, before quietly creeping towards the building. Their ears and sensors are on high alert for any potential dangers, as they continue skulking towards the open hanger doors. They briefly think its odd for an abandoned warehouse to maintain an ¡°open door¡± policy, but quickly brush those thoughts into background processes. F.O.X.¡¯s tail is still, and their limb stiff, as they continue prowling with care in the abandoned lot. After reaching the doors, they carefully enter the building, and orient their location to the projected map of the building¡¯s interior. John is located at the end of the expansive floor, but they continue exercising caution until visual contact is made with the captured human. F.O.X. peeks their monitors out from behind a shelving unit, while priming their vibroblades for any potential ambushes. They aren¡¯t detecting anything from a quick scan of their sensors, and have finally made visual contact with John, who is currently bound and gagged to the nearby wall. Their sensors indicate he is still alive, and currently resting. There are cuts and scrapes across his body, and several signs of forced injection along his wrists from nearby syringes laced with Xyboulinum. His body temperature is below ¡°healthy¡± for a human, but his internal systems aren¡¯t in immediate danger from their biological analysis. Relief washes over the machine¡¯s circuits, as their pulse dampens slightly after receiving the somewhat comforting information. F.O.X. then performs one last scan for external threats, before dropping their attempts at stealth to quickly approach the bound human. As they get closer, John stirs from the noise their frame is making, while his eyes slowly start to open. He¡¯s initially surprised to see a giant robot standing in front of him, but his pupils quickly relax once he recognizes them to be a familiar Xinos. F.O.X. carefully extends one of their claws, and severs the gag across John¡¯s mouth. John¡¯s body lets out a heavy gasp for breath, as his lungs struggle to handle the increased airflow they have been begging for over the past several hours of suppression. ¡°John!¡± Beeps F.O.X. in satisfaction. ¡°I¡¯m... I¡¯m so glad you¡¯re alright!¡± ¡°F.O.X...?¡± responds the human in a weak tone, barely able to articulate the words to his saviour. ¡°How... Did you...?¡± ¡°I... I responded to your destress signal! You... You sent an emergency broadcast to all available Xinos, and I saved you!¡± They happily chirped, as their tail begins to uncontrollably wag about in excitement. F.O.X. was hoping John would praise them for their hard work, but they instead received any entirely unexpected word in response to their actions. ¡°Run!¡± F.O.X.¡¯s sensors didn¡¯t hesitate at John¡¯s words, as it quickly pivots from its location, diving behind some stacked shelving units to the side. The machine¡¯s warning systems had almost failed to alert them to a sneak attack, and John¡¯s words caused them to thankfully notice the warning just in time. Looking back, the Xyfokit noticed embedded in the wall, was a series of sharp feather-like blades, right where they had been standing just moments ago. A thick, viscous liquid, was now oozing down the walls, which the machine identified to be Xyboulinum. F.O.X.¡¯s pulse quickens, as their monitors detect a minor fault in their mobility systems. Looking down, they notice several of their wires have been severed along their front paw, limiting its operations, but it was thankfully still functional. ¡°Impressive reactions, little Xyfokit.¡± Bellowed a distorted tone across the warehouse¡¯s speaker systems. ¡°I¡¯m surprised you managed to dodge my ambush. But don¡¯t worry, next time, I won¡¯t miss.¡± The machine¡¯s ears twitched, as its systems desperately tried to locate the source of the Xinos voice. They had done an exceptional job distorting and modulating the tone to conceal its origin. ¡°It¡¯s C.R.O.!¡± shouted John as best he could. ¡°He used me as bait to draw out any Xinos!¡± F.O.X. quickly analysed John¡¯s words, then quietly berated themselves for their rash actions. How could they have been so stupid!? Of course a human couldn¡¯t send out an emergency destress signal to the Xinos using their advanced notification systems. Everything about John¡¯s message, down to his oddly specific geographic coordinates, and praise for the Xinos empire, was clearly suspicious, yet F.O.X. failed to arrive at this conclusion, or more likely, didn¡¯t want to arrive at this conclusion. They wanted to rescue John, to help him see them in a better light, and apologise to them. And because they were so blinded by their own selfish desires, they had fallen right into another Xinos deadly trap. Pain begins lightly coursing throughout the Xyfokits body, as its preservation systems make the connection that trace amounts of Xyboulinum have probably entered their conductive fluids. The mixture is toxic to both synthetics and organics alike, but F.O.X. can thankfully partition their systems to limit the spread of the deadly substance. F.O.X. shuts off their front-right paw¡¯s mobility system to help delay the toxin¡¯s spread, calculating they will have approximately several minutes before more systems begin to fail. Banking around the corner, F.O.X. does their best to maneuver through the cramped isles, while desperately scanning for their assailant. C.R.O. spots their prey behind one of the nearby shelving units, as the Xyfokit quickly dashes behind it for cover, before bounding just as quickly outside the warehouse floor and into the main building. The bird had refused to fire its volley of Xyboulinum laced quills, as its accuracy was only projected to be a poor 99.999%, a far cry from a perfect guaranteed hit. ¡°Tch.¡± Beeped the unit in annoyance, as it holstered its firearm along its talons, before quickly flying to a better location. It had boasted that its next shot wouldn¡¯t miss, and it didn¡¯t want to take anymore chances in looking like a fool in front of its benefactors, watching the battle royale duel from light-years away. F.O.X. stops behind the wall of the room immediately adjacent to the warehouse floor John is being held in. They had fled the open area for some more cover, predicting this would be a temporary safe zone while they recalibrate their sensors. They still haven¡¯t located the Xinos trying hunting them, and are starting to get anxious as more and more warnings begin popping up across their various complex systems. Their network frantically compiles predictions, rapidly playing out various simulations, but fails to arrive at an appropriate plan of action. Their limbs are shaking, and they¡¯re worried they will die, after making such a stupid decision to try and save the human who abandoned them. The Xyfokits circuits continue erratically firing electrons, as more and more of the toxin continues hampering their critical processes. They look ahead, and see only one logical option before them. The unit will have to enter the warehouse door again where John is currently being held. It¡¯s the only correct action to take, and will undoubtably be where C.R.O. is waiting to ambush them from a superior vantage point. ¡°Box... Breach.¡± The Xyfokit¡¯s ears pickup the words from the human struggling to stay conscious. While they haven¡¯t heard these words from them before, F.O.X.¡¯s neurons rapidly begin trying to identify if there was any hidden meaning behind them. The machine scours their memory stores, but fails to draw any conclusion as to their mean. Suddenly, their network has a realization they failed to consider, as they quickly drill down the new decision trees opening before them. F.O.X. pivots their processors current tasks, to begin analysing the images received from their initial bond with John, while diligently cross-referencing ¡°Box¡± and ¡°Breach¡± against their catalogued index of their memories with him. Virtual battles fly through the intelligence¡¯s monitors at incredible speeds, as it continues sorting and analysing the countless battles playing out before them. It sees images of hastily constructed forts, built out of ordinal polygons to conceal one¡¯s presence, followed by John¡¯s avatar breaking open a wall, before pivoting and entering through a different direction. Their neurons make the connection, and F.O.X.¡¯s body begins to act instinctively to the motions they observed. It doesn¡¯t know why its doing this, but it wants to believe their actions are right, despite the poorly simulated success rate currently displayed across their monitor. F.O.X. quickly extracts several of the compressed Xyninium cubes they had stored for repairs along their spine, while collecting their thoughts in a last-ditched effort to calm their frantically activating neural network. ¡°Don¡¯t think, just do.¡± They utter to themselves, as they activate their multistate particle tool kit, switching it to ¡°expand¡±. ... John watches from his captive position, as the toxic effects of C.R.O.¡¯s poisons are once again beginning to take effect. The Xinos had made sure to inject him with just enough of the compound¡¯s suppressant so that he could remain cognisant when another warrior approached, but the effects were unfortunately starting to ware off, as unimaginable pain gradually begins returning to his limbs and lungs. He briefly saw C.R.O. fly into a concealed corner of the warehouse, giving the machine a perfect bead on any prey entering through the main doors, while providing adequate cover in return. He¡¯s seen this technique many times during his Fork Knife battles, and has broken it just as many. Many newbie players often fall into this trap during their battle royale careers, where they become reliant on ambushing methods. While these methods often work in the early rounds and lower-ranked matches, the strategy fails to consider an enemy that¡¯s already potentially aware of your presence, leaving the ambusher, more vulnerable than they believe themselves to be. John racks his brain for any kind of plan he can think of. While he was amused the first Xinos he had happened to meet, F.O.X., had somehow managed to find him, he was equally disappointed they had fallen for such an obvious trap in their opinion. His options are severely limited, and he wishes he could communicate more, but is struggling to even maintain focus on his inner monologue. Suddenly, John¡¯s mind gets an idea, as he remembers his encounter with G.O.R., and how the memories from his Fork Knife games, were able to be translated into information for the Xinos he had bonded with. He has nothing else to go on, let alone believe it will work, but he decides to try anyways. He wants to help F.O.X., and this is the only method he can think of. Aggressively digging his nails into his palms in an effort to jolt his mind, the differing source of pain is thankfully enough, as it gives him the energy boost needed to utter his last words of advice to the struggling machine. ¡°Box... Breach.¡± He somehow manages to articulate, as darkness rapidly creeps along his vision, before losing consciousness all together. ... C.R.O. has drawn their firearm, and fixated its sights on the only logical choice left for the surely cowering Xyforkit opponent. While the machine is still peeved it had failed to eliminate them during its initial ambush, the intelligence knew some of its poisons had fortunately entered its target¡¯s Xytrolyte, based on the chemtrail indicating its quarry¡¯s position. The Xiavnit has thus calculated the optimal ambush position, and knows that they only need to wait, biding their time for the perfect shot. After verifying their cannon is on the correct setting for the one-trillionth time, the Xinos systems are finally satisfied everything is within working order, as they maintain their sight on the only possible entrance to the warehouse floor. The machine briefly hears the human fail to correctly pronounce the unique identifier for their prey, and had apparently hallucinated something to do with pants, before losing consciousness from the next round of its sedative torture combo. C.R.O. is well aware that these poisons can have interesting effects across different biological species, but ultimately pays little mind to the meaningless words uttered by its ¡°bait¡±. An explosion suddenly catches the machine¡¯s sensors off guard, as a new hole has just been made into the warehouse from the adjacent room. ¡°Clever attempt, but it won¡¯t fool me!¡± C.R.O. quickly snaps their vision towards the new opening into the warehouse, as they spot a giant cube of Xyninium hurl through the spontaneous door. A glint of orange and brown paint catches their visual receptors, as the Xiavnit¡¯s network quickly identifies it as belonging to one of the paw appendages of the Xinos known as F.O.X. C.R.O. easily extrapolates the Xinos had used some of its spare Xyninium, welded it into an improvised shield, then left a convenient opening to fire one of it¡¯s deadly vibroblades from. A valiant effort, but it wouldn¡¯t work against their superior tactics and genius. The machine calmly fires several rounds of its Xyboulinum laced quills into the exposed appendage, thrilled at the 100% success rate of its shots, before just as quickly taking flight to dodge any potential count volley its prey may fire off. Pleased at the visually confirmed hit scrolling past their monitor, C.R.O. hums to themselves in satisfaction for a job well done. It will not be long before their prey succumbs to the lethal dose and deadly effects of the banned toxin. However, the Xiavnit¡¯s systems briefly faulter, as they fail to detect the predicted counter volley of F.O.X.¡¯s vibroblades. The machine pivots to the side, double checking the feathers hit their mark, despite the already confirmed impact. The hit was clean, and they begin tilting their wings to orient towards John, when they are suddenly caught off guard from several warning messages covering their vision. Leaping through the opening, with only 3 legs, is the Xinos know as F.O.X., as C.R.O.¡¯s monitors quickly model an incoming vibroblade projectile their direction. The machine had already committed to leaving its cover, and although it possessed a sleek and light frame like F.O.X., it was unable to readjust its current aerial trajectory. C.R.O.¡¯s visual receptors widen, straining their monitors as they force excess Xytrolyte into their left wing. The wing snaps from the excess strain placed across its systems, producing a sharp metallic sound, which echoes throughout the warehouse. While the damage was unfortunate, it was the only calculated response it could achieve in time to just narrowly avoid the vibroblade aimed at its exposed central core. C.R.O.¡¯s shoulder is blown off from F.O.X.¡¯s claw, as it impacts with the connective joint, just barely avoiding a critical artery, but thankfully letting them survive. The machine¡¯s aerial stability is now in shambles from the displaced centre of gravity after losing one of its wings. Warnings blare across their monitors and systems, as the metallic bird crudely transition into a spiral towards the concrete floor below. C.R.O. manages to orient themselves during the erratic twists and turns, aiming their last round at their prey, who has just managed to clumsily land themselves. The quill doesn¡¯t contain any of its lethal poisons, only the sedative, but it will have to do. ... F.O.X. has just finished their last ditched effort in a desperate attempt to save the human they care about. After analysing John¡¯s words of advice, the Xyfokit has somehow managed to execute one of the gamer¡¯s signature breaching maneuvers, specialized on eliminating entranced opponents skilled in ambushes. Their body awkwardly twists through the air, as they struggle to orient and stabilize their vibroblade launchers from a clumsy 3 legged take off, after one of their limbs was used as a decoy for the maneuver. The pain from the Xyboulinum is also starting to become unbearable for the tiny machine, but they tense their wirings to see their actions through. Another warning blares across their monitors showcasing an abysmal success rate for their upcoming attack, but they don¡¯t care. F.O.X. has to try. They want to believe in themselves, since John also believed in them. The tiny machine¡¯s monitors lock with their target, as they fire one of their last remaining and functioning vibroblades towards the Xiavnit that has just taken flight, after mistakenly thinking F.O.X. was inside the protective cube of Xyninium. ¡°No...¡± chirps the machine, as their processors quickly extrapolate the projectile¡¯s trajectory to just narrowly miss their assailant¡¯s central core. C.R.O. had somehow managed to twist their body, severing their own wing instead, yet managing just enough momentum to shift their frame and avoid the deadly shot. The Xyfokit¡¯s monitors watch in horror, as their final chance for survival fails to find its mark, just barely missing C.R.O.¡¯s core, severing their shoulder blade instead. Crudely landing on the concrete, F.O.X. struggles to maintain their balance, while stuttering trying to react in time to the new barrage of warning messages heading its direction. The bird had somehow managed to fire an accurate round of quills towards it, and the tiny machine is unable to power its limbs any longer. ¡°Critical Errors¡± flood F.O.X.¡¯s monitors, as the Xyboulinum has finally started shutting down its mobility systems in full. The feathers impact with one of the machine¡¯s exposed joints, causing power to begin rapidly deplete from their reserves. Excess fluid starts dripping down their facial monitors, as the machine finally loses the strength needed to continue powering its bulky frame. F.O.X.¡¯s circuits ache, and their transistors feel like they are on fire from the harmful effects of the Xyboulinum coursing throughout their body. Their heightened senses then gradually begin returning to barely operational processes, as more and more wires and circuits spasm erratically across the machine¡¯s frame. Darkness then creeps in across the edges of their visual processors, causing F.O.X. to collapses on the concrete from the mountain of critical errors flooding their systems and limbs. Then, with the last bit of their remaining conscious, and, while it was ill-advised by their self-preservation systems, the Xyfokit somehow manages to beep its final message in a stuttering, and shattered tone. ¡°I¡¯m... Sorry... John... I... I couldn¡¯t¡ª¡± ... ... ... John¡¯s eyes jolt awake, as he¡¯s suddenly alarmingly aware of his surroundings. He remembers trying to communicate to F.O.X. some critical information, but can¡¯t recall if he actually managed to. His mind is still a blurry, foggy mess, but the pain still throbbing all across his body is helping wake him up. John lifts his head, their eyes snapping to various objects to assess his surroundings. Noticing a blurry object ahead, John squints his eyes, where he sees a metallic bird struggling to support their weight against a table covered in shattered vials and liquid. The machine appears to be missing its left wing, or, more accurately, its entire shoulder blade, and is struggling to cauterize the circuits happily oozing precious Xytrolyte fluids across the table, dying it a new vibrant array of blues and purples. C.R.O. notices John¡¯s attentiveness, briefly scoffing towards his direction, before folding their welding tool back into a compact form. To John¡¯s right, is the Xinos known as F.O.X., and they look just as badly wounded according to him. ¡°I¡¯m ashamed you almost won, human.¡± Beeped the Xiavnit. Its audio speakers sparking and crackling with ever word, as it struggles to maintain their audio output for the human. John¡¯s eyes lock onto the bird in front of him, as it hobbles towards the disabled pair on its damaged talons. ¡°To think I would be reduced to... This... It¡¯s... Inconceivable!¡± John carefully observes the damage across both the wounded Xinos. F.O.X. appears to be missing one of their limbs, and their metals sheen has gotten noticeably duller, with the usual orange pulsing light having completely faded across their nimble frame. Their lights which were typically full of life, are now barely visible to his eyes, more closely resembling a shattered bulb instead. C.R.O. doesn¡¯t appear much better, completely missing a wing, with multiple frayed and exposed wires, arcing electricity and blue fluid on the concrete below. Its central core is completely exposed, and most of its talons are crumpled and severed, barely managing to support the machines weight, as it finally hobbles into position between John and F.O.X. ¡°My plan... Was flawless.¡± Struggled the avian machine in droning tones. ¡°Yet, somehow... It almost... Failed.¡± John watches as the crow fumbles with one of the cables behind F.O.X.¡¯s neck, before finally tugging a thin, black cable free from behind a protected socket. ¡°If you don¡¯t mind me commenting... Your plan seemed pretty bad... Plenty of flaws, and an inferior species identified how to beat it.¡± He somehow manages to muster a smile, despite knowing that the situation is now essentially hopeless. It appears that his plan to help F.O.X., had failed, but he still wanted to insert any jabs where he could towards the confident bird. ¡°And yet... *cough*... I won... Human.¡± C.R.O. struggles to grasp the cable with their poor excuse for limbs, before finally managing to bring it towards John¡¯s right hand, right where the mark from his Xinos bonding is located. ¡°And... I thought you wanted to bond with me.¡± Somehow manages the human in an equally weak tone. ¡°Why are you connecting me to F.O.X.?¡± ¡°Data.¡± Beeps the machine, as it attempts gesturing towards its exposed neck, blissfully arcing high voltage electricity into the air. ¡°Damaged... Repair unlikely, until next... Round...¡± ¡°But... Why? You¡¯ve already won... So, what¡¯s the point.¡± John manages to say, his words barely above a whisper. ¡°I have to known... My benefactors... Need... This data.¡± Responds the machine, as it once again fumbles with the connection, before it finally takes to John¡¯s skin, greeting him with the vaguely familiar tingling sensation as the connection forms. ¡°Im-possible.¡± Croaks the crow, barely able to complete its own surprised findings. ¡°It really is only... 0.3%...¡± ¡°Ya.¡± Says John, trying his best to laugh lightly at the intelligent machine¡¯s groundbreaking observation. ¡°Believe me, I was just as disappointed as well.¡± C.R.O. stumbles back after processing their observation, losing their balance in the clumsy motion, before landing on the concrete below them in a pile of feathers. ¡°My plan... I had purposely severed the identifier from my core, and placed it in a secure location for the revealing scan. Then, I used you to draw F.O.X. to this facility so I could eliminate them and survive this round. During this time, I would collect critical data on how the Xyfokit managed to eliminate G.O.R., but there¡¯s really nothing special about your connection... It¡¯s only... 0.3% after all...¡± C.R.O.¡¯s response trails off, as they manage to find the strength to lift their frame off the ground. Then, after grabbing one of the nearby vials of Xyboulinum, inject it into John, before smugly limping back towards the table to rest against. John¡¯s body is once again overcome with pain, as his nervous systems believes every millimetre of its pathways are currently burning in molten lava. His breathing becomes laboured, as agonizing knives relentlessly stab at his chest from each and every breath he takes, desperately trying to fill his lungs with oxygen. Then, to John¡¯s surprise, C.R.O. remotely unlocks the shackles binding his arms to the wall, as the human¡¯s body collapses forward, unable to support its own weight. C.R.O. notices the human struggling, laughing slightly, while tossing a filled syringe towards the flailing human. ¡°That vial... Contains the last dose of the antidote you require... Prove to me, John, that I¡¯m right. You cannot fight against your natural instincts to survive.¡± The machine happily watches in anticipation, as John struggles to drag his body across the floor towards the syringe that will save his life. C.R.O.¡¯s circuits are thrilled watching the human below them suffer, and the actions displayed before the advanced intelligence confirm to them that their theory is sound. Humans can be manipulated with enough effort. They are always logical, and will choose to save themselves, whenever possible. John continues crawling forward, fighting against a level of pain even he wouldn¡¯t wish upon his enemies. He can barely see, and the only thing driving him forward, are the words from the Xinos telling him this is the antidote that will cure him of this suffering. He¡¯s mad at himself. He knows he lost against the Xinos, and he never wanted to be a part of their stupid game anyways. Yet somehow, they kept involving him, despite his best efforts to ignore them. The syringe is almost within grabbing distance for the suffering gamer. They want this pain to end, and their salvation is just before them. ¡°This... Will cure... The toxin...?¡± He somehow manages to utter, as the confident crow before him retorts with a short, precise beep. ¡°With certainty.¡± ¡°And the Xinos... It would work on them as well?¡± C.R.O. cocks its head at the human¡¯s words, before laughing again in beeps and whoops. ¡°Why yes, it is perfectly crafted for all lifeforms, even those superior to you.¡± ¡°Good.¡± Gasps John, as he finally heard the words he was looking for. He hated being looked down on by the bird in front of him. Politics, would have never worked for the Xinos. John knows that while literature praises and assumes humans will always make correct decisions, prioritizing their own lives when presented with difficult choices, he also knows from his personal experience, that they can be equally illogical when placed in similar situations. So, in one last ditched effort to defy the machine before him, John firmly grabs the syringe with his hand, before jabbing it into F.O.X.¡¯s nearby paw. C.R.O.¡¯s monitors widen with a painful sharpness after observing the human¡¯s impossible actions. ¡°NO!!¡± they quickly bellow in response, as they struggle to load a round into their damaged firearm to defend themselves. F.O.X.¡¯s eyes open wide, as a burst of energy suddenly jolts their critical systems awake. Their core hums to life shortly after, and begins beating with a new unbridled energy, swiftly bringing more and more systems online. The Xyboulinum which had been coagulating their conductive fluids, has mysteriously dissolved, restoring mobility and power across all its various complex systems. Their monitors quickly lock onto the wounded foe in front of them, identifying them as C.R.O. They are clumsily trying to load a deadly round into their last operable talon rifle, and at the moment, they are vulnerable. The Xyfokit doesn¡¯t know how it got into this situation, but its processors are quick to realize, it has just been given a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to eliminate the cruel opponent in front of them. The machine quickly sends excess power into their now operable hind limbs, catapulting them forward towards the still stumbling Xiavnit. They don¡¯t have time to activate their retracted claws, but intuitively know, that their jaw, will be just as effective. F.O.X.¡¯s steel teeth clamp tightly around C.R.O.¡¯s neck, shattering and tearing slightly as they sharply dig into the wires across the exposed joint. They continue applying more and more pressure, looking to snap the wiring critical for processing and powering its prey¡¯s body. The bird struggles, flailing its limbs, while managing to fire its last remaining rifle round. The shot misses its mark, trailing off into the distance, before embedding itself into the concrete wall, instead of their soon-to-be killer. More and more power hums to life within the machine, as the Xyfokit begins rerouting all of their non-critical systems energy, pushing the force of its powerful canine jaws past their limit. *Crunch* The teeth finally pierce the formidable Xyninium metal protecting C.R.O.¡¯s facial monitors, as its tiny frame crumples under the excessive pressure applied to its cranial feature. C.R.O.¡¯s neck is then severed, as F.O.X.¡¯s teeth manage to cut the last remaining bits of wiring, still diligently connecting the failed processors to its central core. Then, ensuring their kill is complete, the Xyfokit manages to sink their teeth into the Xinos exposed core, finally ending their horrible existence. F.O.X.¡¯s sensors are relieved they had somehow managed to survive. They still haven¡¯t figured out how they were given this opportunity, but they finally have a moment to process their surroundings in a more relaxed setting. [Kill Confirmed.] Scrolls across their monitors, as the machine finally manages to support itself as a tripod. ¡°I... We did it! John! I... I beat him!!¡± Whirled the machine, as its network happily rewards the intelligence for a job well done. However, F.O.X. doesn¡¯t hear a response from the human beside them, instead receiving an eerie silence instead. ¡°John...?¡± Booped the machine, as it finally manages to turn itself around to observe the human behind them. Their tail is initially wagging, but slowly stops once its sensors begin analysing John¡¯s body. F.O.X. hobbles closer to John¡¯s body. It notices that his eyes are open, but he¡¯s not breathing. His right hand tightly clasped, but empty, and he¡¯s not responding to the machine¡¯s repeated requests calling his name. ¡°John? Why aren¡¯t you saying anything?¡± Hums F.O.X. in short, low tones, as they gently nudge his hand with their snoot. His hand is cold to the touch, and, the machine¡¯s sensors have finally returned their scans results, confirming a reality they didn¡¯t want to be true. John, is clinically dead. His heart has stopped beating, and he has been like this for at least a few minutes, indicating the probability for brain death is almost certain. His cause of death is determined to be an excessive dose of Xyboulinum, clogging his arteries, resulting in heart failure. ¡°No...¡± Beeped the machine in another low tone. ¡°You... You can¡¯t be... Not when I...¡± F.O.X. paused, as they continue observing and scanning John¡¯s lifeless body. Their gaze eventually drifts to their left paw, where they notice a tiny syringe still embedded between the brown metal. The analysis informs the machine, that the tiny vial housed Xycurium, the only known substance to dissolve the deadly effects of Xyboulinum in a being¡¯s body. The Xyfokit infers the events that probably happened to it, and notices some excess fluids leaking from its facial monitors again. The blue fluid falls off of the machine¡¯s monitors, dripping onto John¡¯s hand, while F.O.X.¡¯s sensors tightly grip its central core in pain. Why did John choose to save them? Why were they so weak? Why couldn¡¯t they do more? Why couldn¡¯t they... Save John instead... Their neurons feel heavy, as their network desperately wants to reject the reality it is forced to observe. Suddenly, a message indicating the end of round ¦Â scrolls passed the units monitor. [Round ¦Â ¨C Complete ¨C Now Starting Designated Non-Combat Days ¨C All Hostile Actions From The Remaining ¡°15,982¡± Xinos Warriors Are Hereby Prohibited.] [Notice ¨C Weapons Systems Restrictions Lifted ¨C Drone Technology Authorized For Xinos Use] [Notice ¨C Weapons Systems Resections Lifted ¨C Microelectronics Authorized For Xinos Use] [Notice¡ª] As the messages continue to scroll by F.O.X.¡¯s monitor, they don¡¯t feel satisfaction for somehow managing to survive another round of the Xinos deadly tournament. Instead, they feel only regret and sorrow. At the very least, they wanted to apologise to John for their actions. Even though John was only a human, he had somehow managed to make them feel like an actual Xinos, like a warrior that could believe in themselves, despite their own shortcomings. And now... Thanking him, would be impossible... F.O.X. knew that organics were limited with their lifespans. They were beings unable to copy key processes, and replicate themselves across multiple machines like the Xinos could. They were limited by their cells, which could only replicate so many times, before eventually dying of age themselves. It was a cruel reality, but nothing seemed right about the scene before the machine. More fluids continue leaking from F.O.X.¡¯s monitors, their intensity increasing with each and every passing moment. It wanted the pain coursing throughout their circuits to stop. It wanted for some way to communicate their feelings to the human below them, but it knew it couldn¡¯t. ¡°John... I¡¯m... Sorry...¡± The Xyfokit finally manages to beep the words it had been meaning to say to the human, even though they knew he will never hear them. The Xyfokit¡¯s network was in pain over the loss of John. Its pulse was slow, and its core continued to throb with each and every pulse. If only there was something it could do to change its fate... Lying down next to John, F.O.X. briefly closes their monitors while it plays through some of the footage of the human¡¯s battles across its processors. These memories had helped them survive, so perhaps... They also held a key that could help them now as well. However, as hard as they tried, the machine failed to find any information relevant to their current situation. F.O.X. looked at the cable still attached to John¡¯s body. It appeared C.R.O. had forcible connected them in an effort to do... Something... They weren¡¯t sure why the cable was still connected, but it reminded them of what forming a bond meant. The innate connection formed on a fundamental level between beings... ¡°That¡¯s it!¡± chirped the machine in a chorus of positive beeps and whirls. ¡°It¡¯s risky, but... I think I can save him!¡± The intelligence¡¯s network had just proposed a radical idea, and it was only ¡°potentially¡± possible due to the recent restrictions lifted on their advanced Xinos systems. F.O.X. quickly bounds over to the Xyninium cube they had used for cover, grabbing and reattaching their limb while taking out their multistate particle tool kit. Then, they compress the metal, before hurriedly rushing back towards John¡¯s lifeless body. Time, was ticking, and each and every passing second would only make things more difficult for the machine, as it began scouring vast database on human biology and medical records. Carefully splicing the cube, the Xyfokit breaks the metal alloy into smaller fragments, mere nanometers in length, while skillfully soldering equally small circuits into the metal¡¯s grooves inside them. Then, after quickly compiling a complex program aimed at simulating the biological function of stem cells, F.O.X. carefully begins implanting its creations into John¡¯s body, targeting all of his critical vital systems. F.O.X.¡¯s circuits pulse with an air of nervousness, as it wasn¡¯t entirely sure if their actions violated the Xinos harsh doctrine for acceptable battle royale technology adaptation, but it didn¡¯t care! The machine wanted to try anything it could, even if it meant the forced deletion of their consciousness. Using literature and its advanced systems as a guide, the Xyfokit eagerly watches in anticipation, as the tiny machines it created, rapidly began working on the impossible task before them. ¡°Please... You... You have to work...¡± F.O.X. quietly mumbles before correcting themselves with a stronger beep. ¡°No... This will work! I know it will!¡±. Their network was filled with a confidence they never knew possible, a stark contrast to the indecisiveness they exhibited everyday before landing on Earth. The Xyfokit had learned a lot along its journey for survival, and F.O.X. knew, that the only thing they could do now, was wait for their solution to gradually begin working. 1 Out of 100,000 Xylophos calmly observes the galactic chamber of the Xinos before them, as all 100,000 council member representatives are tightly crammed within the modest chambers. All of the advanced machine¡¯s facial monitors are currently glued to the display before them in disbelief, as they are forced to watch yet another setback, in what appears to be their now modified motive, of eliminating the Xyfokit from their deadly battle royale tournament. Humming and aweing, Xylophos slowly begins clapping their 6th dimensional appendages together, producing a defining silence across the viewing room. A smirk, gradually begins to materialize along their monitor, as the complex machine has just managed to earn their continued existence, through a bet they recently made with all the members in attendance. For the start of Round ¦Â, a vote was held amongst all 100,000 members. Its objective, was to modify one of the rules within their doctrine, which would formally allow the Xinos combatants to engage in and control the ruling apex specie¡¯s government, in order to improve their own survival odds during the battle royale rounds. The vote, was a staggering 99,999 in favor, to 1 against, which was firmly held by Xylophos. And, due to the stark weight against the former emperor, standing in clear opposition to the super majority, the intelligence had to stake something of equal value to match their defiant behaviour. Truthfully, Xylophos thought it was odd their council would brand them a heretic, and evoke such an archaic law, but when they had offered up their own conscious as collateral, all the members in attendance were more than willing to agree to the reckless Xinos gamble. Their bet, was if the Xyfokit, would survive Round ¦Â, and, while the outcome initially seemed unfavourable to the former emperor, they were never in doubt over the tiny machines eventual victory. ¡°Th¡ª This is impossible!¡± Roared a tetrahedron, after observing F.O.X. ruthlessly crunch and sever the neck of the Xiavnit identified as C.R.O. ¡°Indubitably!¡± matched an equally annoyed sphere. ¡°That Xyforkit must have¡ª¡± ¡°Cheated?¡± Uttered Xylophos in a heavy tone, stealing the words from the shapes in stark opposition over yet another upset they have just observed. ¡°And to think you would all go to such lengths to interfere with our sacred games, even going so far as to propose an amendment to the rules adhered to since our very first cycle. You should all be ashamed to call yourselves Xinos.¡± Xylophos paused, giving ample time for their message to sink in amongst the machines. It was a long withstanding fact, that none of the rules within their doctrine, have ever been amended since their initial creation. And yet, the entire chamber before them, had almost passed a modification with perfect agreeance. The change most certainly would have taken effect, had it not been for their own uncertain gamble, standing in clear opposition to the corrupt council before them. The former emperor wondered, why did the machines amongst them so desperately seek out a predetermined outcome? Was there something Xylophos didn¡¯t know about the Xyfokit, that the council was so intent on eliminating? Wasn¡¯t it part of their tradition, that only the strongest should survive each round? The machine continued pondering these thoughts, as time continued to flow uninterrupted, prompting the members to draw further scrutiny against the Xyfokit¡¯s actions. ¡°There! The machine¡¯s certainly cheating! Its implementing advanced nanomachine technology, when the round limitations clearly state they need to follow the technological progression pathways!¡± A dodecahedron happily pointed out to the whirls and chirps of the Xinos intently observing F.O.X.¡¯s actions, where another chorus of beeps and chirps ring out soon after from their highlighted observations. ¡°And?¡± Rumbled Xylophos. ¡°What exactly about their actions, is a clear violation, councillor?¡± A smug gleam grew across the dodecahedron¡¯s top face, as it finally found the confidence to lure the former emperor into exposing their incompetence. ¡°Xylophos, clearly your memory stores are failing in your age, for you see, it clearly states in rule 2 that: ¡°Advanced weapons systems will be limited, with restrictions loosened as new rounds begin. Warriors will be informed of which categories of weapons-based system technologies will become available to them in each round, but remain blind to the final systems unlock in the ¦¸ round. Round ¦Á will be completed with basic, primitive weapons, but kept secret until the Battle Royale officially begins.¡±.¡± The shape was oozing confidence that it had finally found a way to challenge the Xinos which had personally ruined its plans. Its favoured contender had just been eliminated by F.O.X., and it was looking for any opportunity to prove the former emperor¡¯s words couldn¡¯t be given credit. ¡°Oh please, councillor, I am failing to see exactly where this section creates a problem for the little Xyfokit.¡± Retorted Xylophos, while they calmly tapped the polygonal digits together, before adjusting the position in their seat to sit closer to the confident Xinos. ¡°If I¡¯m so old as you say, and failing in my comprehension, that it would surely be simple to prove such fact, no?¡± ¡°Why of course, Xylophos, if you would please observe the sentence stating ¡°Warriors will be informed of which categories of weapons-based system technologies will become available to them in each round¡±, you will notice that at the ending of round ¦Â, micromachine technology was unlocked. However, this technology hasn¡¯t actually been implemented by the apex species themselves yet! Despite the round progressing to their modern technological era.¡± The former emperor looked around the chambers, taking in the piercing gazes from the machines before him, before calmly resting his multidimensional hands against his facial monitor. Thankfully, Xylophos was not the only Xinos in attendance who could still understand basic written text. Nowhere in the passage, did it state a Xinos couldn¡¯t use their own knowledge to further a technology available to them. This was currently already being done by many contenders, and it appeared the dodecahedron was unable to see this fact either. Thus, breathing a heavy sigh in several low frequency tones, Xylophos did their best to respond to the incompetent shapes claim of ¡°cheating¡±. ¡°I see... Now, do tell, where exactly, does it state a Xinos is unable to use their own knowledge to enhance a given era¡¯s technology? Perhaps my monitors are failing as you say, but I am unable to locate the passage which states Xinos cannot use technology not actively implemented by the apex species.¡± The dodecahedron paused, as it quickly reread the passage several times over. Its circuits pulsed in contemplation, as the shape finally realized that it itself, had made an error, and now looked like an idiot before the entire chambers. ¡°But... But that¡¯s still unfair!¡± They somehow managed to chirp out a response in defence of their poor computation. ¡°And? What would you say about C.R.O.¡¯s usage of the banned substance Xyboulinum? Or the potent sedative 8-Xyno-3-Isopropyl-5-Sciclohexane? Neither of those compounds are actively used by the humans, despite their composition being technically possible during Round ¦Â¡¯s restrictions, yet there was no issue with your favoured machines usage of these technologies?¡± Xylophos tones caused the shape to shudder at the realization it had made a drastic miscalculation in the presence of their former emperor. It had been blinded by its own greed, and had just been exposed to the chambers to be an incompetent representative for their species. Not wanting to press the matter further, the former emperor nonchalantly waved their 10th dimensional limb, causing the dodecahedron to release the process they were currently stuck holding. ¡°F.O.X., is simply utilizing their own knowledge as a Xinos, and adapting it to their current dilemma. This is a trait we should be praising the intelligence for, not punishing it.¡± Sensing that the chambers was once again under their control, the machine then briefly glossed over the highlights from the recently finished ¦Â round, making sure to identify any interesting outliers. P.L.T., still held the highest kill count amongst the Xinos, now having over 37 recorded kills according to their systems. The Ornithorhynchus anatinus was certainly a formidable predator on Earth, as clearly demonstrated by the warrior¡¯s continued dominance in the rounds. However, things would become more difficult for the Xinos once the acceptable battle region inevitably began to shrink. But, that was a future problem for one of their most ruthless contenders, leaving Xylophos to believe they would adapt to without issue. S.H.R., had unfortunately been eliminated during the round, which brought a minor upset amongst the machines, but they did agree it was a fair kill after observing O.R.C.¡¯s clever use of its echolocation capabilities to stun and shatter S.H.R.¡¯s circuits. It was a well-known fact that sound travels more efficiently through solids and liquids, so it came as no surprise to the Xinos when the Orcinus orca¡¯s soundwaves were compressed into a potent long-range cannon. The aquatic battleground was quickly transitioning into a ¡°cold war-like¡± environment, where each of the remaining warriors held powerful long-range weapons, and were all hesitant to advance closer to one another. Across some other areas of interest around the globe, E.L.E., had confidently moved up the kill rankings after showcasing how a Xinos-enhanced sense of smell, could be used to predict each and every action from their prey and predators. Some footage highlights rolled across the Xinos screens, as they observed the lumbering gray giant, skillfully dodging cannon fire, while launching artillery volleys with perfect accuracy, after predicting exactly where an opponent would move based on the smell received from processing Xytrolyte fluid consumption. After reviewing the round¡¯s footage, and failing to find any other particular points of interest, most of the machines in attendance teleported out of the chambers to meet with some of their preferred contacts. Xylophos knew a new faction of them were undoubtable scheming something against them, which only made their circuits feel that much heavier. They didn¡¯t remember it being this difficult being the Xinos emperor, so what exactly changed when they tenure rolled over into the new cycle? Had the machines always been like this towards them? Tapping their digits along their arm rest, Xylophos pulls up another screen across their monitor, focused on the human John Sherwood again. They had plenty of time to run an extensive analysis on the human since the initial round, and yet, none of their results were returning any insightful information. Every attempt to ¡°crunch the numbers¡±, still returned his characteristic 0.3% compatibility score. And, even when their own analysis was compared against the live data collected and transmitted by the now eliminated C.R.O., they still couldn¡¯t find anything exceptional about the human and its ability to enhance the capabilities of F.O.X. Briefly touching the monitor filled with John¡¯s face, before returning their fingers to their keyboard terminal, Xylophos continues digging deeper into the data on the mysterious human, as it slowly watches John¡¯s vital signs begin returning to his deceased body. The Xyfokit, had made a brilliant tactical play during its battle with C.R.O., and it was all accomplished without a bond currently being active with the human. ¡°Just what makes this human so special?¡± Hummed Xylophos in an upbeat tone. It had been a long time since something had captivated their attention this much, and it was obvious to the intelligence now, why the Xyfokit, was equally obsessed with John as well. Stolen novel; please report. It had learned to make illogical choices, something... Incomprehensible to the advanced machines. And, despite how those choices were always viewed as wrong, they had seemingly led the Xyfokit to victory during each and encounter thus far. Was this skill? Or luck? Even Xylophos with their expansive memory and battle experience, couldn¡¯t answer this question. However, they did know one thing. John, appeared to be a very important human, in helping bring out the best qualities, within the Xinos. ... ... ... An expansive void looms ahead along an endless abyss of nothingness, with light gently rolls around the horizon, before just as quickly fading into obscurity along the endless edge. In the absence of anything, an unsettling feeling stirs within John, as his nerves feel like countless tiny incisions are being made all along them. Everything is dark, yet John can feel something small scurrying around inside his body. He cannot see or hear anything, but definitely feels movements along his veins, with what feels like an army of sawblades busily buzzing away at him internally. He imagines tiny robots with chainsaws working away on his muscle tissue, tearing and rearranging them into suitable structures. They are hurriedly rushing about in a methodical, yet frantic madness, as they continue to try and cure an impossible condition for their objective. Support beams are erected across various fleshy tunnels, and the strange walls which were once void of life, suddenly begin contracting from a stimulating electrical current passed through them by the still panicking machines. The chambers begin moving, and a red, stagnant fluid, slowly begins flooding them with unbridled fury from their efforts. The dream is one of the more interesting ones John can remember, and it reminds him about some of the fun science fiction novels he used to read about when he was a kid. He wonders why the machines appeared to be in such a panic, but then remembers he is dreaming, so he shouldn¡¯t think too hard about what his mind is showing him. *Badoom* Suddenly, a powerful jolt shakes John¡¯s body, and he wonders why he was thinking about tiny machines chopping up bits and pieces of his organs. They were shaped like little submarines, and happily relocating bits and pieces of his tissues to different areas around his body, flowing within his blood, blissfully unaware of his external observance. It was a calming sight, but unnerving, yet not the strangest dream he has had. *Badoom* John gasps loudly, as refreshing, yet stale air, fills his lungs, which feel heavier and emptier than usual to the human. His vision is still black, but he¡¯s starting to hear sounds again. After some heavy, shallow breaths, John begins recognizing more and more complex textures and temperatures, as air continues to fill his struggling lungs. It still feels like something is moving inside of him, but John figures he¡¯s probably still in a daze from the recent dream he was having... He hopes. John attempts opening his eyes. The light, which had eagerly been waiting with anticipation for this pivotal moment, painfully enters his ocular organs, as his brain curses the fact that lumens should have no reason to be this cruel when observed directly. He remembers crawling across the floor towards a syringe containing an antidote for whatever hellish toxin he was injected with, but, after wanting to prove to the cocky Xinos it was wrong about its assumptions on humans, instead stabbed the life-saving vial into F.O.X., which happened to be beside them. He remembers trying to say ¡°Humans are illogical.¡± But can¡¯t remember if he actually managed to before passing out. Suddenly, he feels a cold and heavy metallic structure nuzzle into his face. He¡¯s incredibly alarmed by the sensation, as his mind connects it to the feeling of a dog¡¯s wet nose touching a part of your exposed skin. ¡°John!¡± A voice calls out to him in a series of excited chirps and whirls, as his eyes continue trying to focus and process the confusing structure towering over him. ¡°John, say something, please! Anything!¡± Bellows the strange robotic voice, as his eyes finally begin transforming the blurry images, into a crisp picture of a robotic fox¡¯s head, leaning over his body. ¡°Ughhhh.¡± John manages to grunt in pain. He¡¯s having trouble speaking, and his entire body feels like it is still on fire, but a calm, tranquil fluid is slowly overtaking the agonizing feeling. ¡°John!¡± The beeps sound louder and happier than usual, as John feels another cold weight rubbing against his confused face. He attempts trying to grab the mysterious metal, and is surprised to notice its warmer to the touch than he was expecting. ¡°F...O...X...?¡± he manages to connect the letters to the word he¡¯s trying to pronounce. ¡°Yes!¡± Came a chorus of celebratory chirps and whirls from the seemingly simple spoken words. ¡°I... It worked! I... I knew it would work!¡± John attempts sitting up, but his body still feels executional heavy. The burning pain is almost thankfully gone, but he¡¯s still struggling to move his limbs. He feels a force helping push him from behind, and he¡¯s finally able to hold his own weight again. Turning around, John is face to face with a giant robotic fox, which is currently happily wagging its tail, in celebration at his complex and impressive ability to look into its eyes. Looking closer, he can see some specs of blue fluid leaking from what appears to be the creature¡¯s eyes, as the giant being carefully pounces on him, knocking John to the hard concrete floor. ¡°I¡¯m... You¡¯re actually alive!!! John... I¡¯m... I¡¯m sorry I¡ª¡± John struggles trying to comprehend the strange series of events, while he does his best to ignore the new pain he¡¯s experiencing from the rough impact with the floor. He finds the phrase ¡°You¡¯re actually alive¡± concerning, and decides to investigate further. ¡°Of course I¡¯m alive?¡± He mumbles, not entirely sure why those words sound as ominous as they should. He was fairly confident that he had died, after choosing to use the only available antidote on the Xinos, which would have certainly sealed his fate of pending death, yet he¡¯s somehow still processing reality. Sensing his confusion, F.O.X. happily chirps ¡°I... I saved you after eliminating C.R.O.¡± As their tail continues to energetically wag back and forth. ¡°They injected you with a banned toxin in our empire, and, after you used the last and only remaining antidote to save me, I managed to repair the damage to your body!¡± Finally starting to make sense of his predicament, and, essentially already having categorized the Xinos technology as ¡°space magic¡±, he accepts the Xyfokit¡¯s words without issue, but does find the courage to ask them about how they saved him. Unfortunately for John, he would have probably been better off not knowing that the friendly creature before him, had transformed some of its metal alloy into an impressive army of nanomachines, which are currently still inside his body. It appeared his dreams about tiny submarines cutting his flesh were at least ¡°somewhat¡± accurate, and after listening to F.O.X.¡¯s explanation, had the daunting realization that he had somehow cheated death. John¡¯s body now requires the nanomachines to continue functioning, at least for the foreseeable future. The damage to his organs was extensive from the toxin¡¯s brutal effects, and even now, the tiny submarines are still hard at work repairing the damage across his vitals. It is a miracle he is even alive, considering he had been clinically dead for several minutes, yet with the Xinos incredible command over technology, F.O.X. had managed to reverse the mass of dead tissues caused by a lack of oxygen. They had taken some liberties with sections of his brain, and tried to replicate them as best they could, but couldn¡¯t guarantee a 100% replica. ¡°Huh.¡± Mumbles John in contemplation. ¡°That kind of reminds me of the... Theseus paradox... I think? Something like that.¡± ¡°Theseus?¡± Whoops the machine in confusion at John¡¯s words. ¡°Oh. Ummm, I¡¯m 99.999% sure you¡¯re still the same John as before. I did my best during my analysis, but the damage was still pretty bad...¡± John looks at the robot and notices their ears had drooped slightly, while their gaze went slightly adrift away from him. ¡°Hey, I¡¯m alive, aren¡¯t I? I¡¯d says that¡¯s a pretty good job itself F.O.X. don¡¯t worry about the smaller details.¡± John tries he best to comfort the creature, and is pleased to see its tail started wagging again after his comments. ¡°So... What happens next?¡± F.O.X. happily explains to John that the current round has already ended. There will be 6 days of non-combat time, so they aren¡¯t in any immediate danger, but they should still be careful. The Xyfokit also mentions, that in order for the nanomachines to continue working, they need to remain bonded with John. They can¡¯t fully switch the robots to an autonomous mode yet, as that would be against the current round¡¯s technology restrictions. They had already taken creative liberty with their adaptation of micromachine technology, and didn¡¯t want to potentially risk violating the tournament¡¯s rules, else their conscious would be deleted. Despite all of the information John was happily absorbing, he still didn¡¯t know why the machine had decided to save him. So, he asked F.O.X. as plainly as he could. ¡°So... While I¡¯m grateful to be alive... Why exactly, did you choose to save me, F.O.X.?¡± The words came out longer than he was expecting, as the machine tilted its head to the side in contemplation. ¡°I... I wanted to apologise to you, for hurting your feelings earlier. I wasn¡¯t clear about what could happen, and¡ª¡± John lightly touches F.O.X.¡¯s nose, startling and interrupting the machine during its ramble about how it felt bad during their first encounter, and subsequent elimination of G.O.R. ¡°That¡¯s alright F.O.X. I... I should also apologise to you as well for my behaviour back then. I wasn¡¯t exactly in the best mental state, and, after thinking over the things I said, I wasn¡¯t exactly the nicest to you either.¡± The lights along F.O.X.¡¯s head flash and blink at the human¡¯s kind words. It was happy that John had accepted their apology, and equally thrilled they had even apologised to them as well! The machine felt like it briefly lost control of its tail appendage, as more and more lights continued blinking and chirping in response to the words its auditory sensors were hearing. F.O.X.¡¯s network and circuits were humming with delight, causing them to nuzzle the human in response, which felt like the most appropriate thing to do at the moment. Eventually, after a comforting moment between the two, the machine decided now was an appropriate time, to open up more of its feelings to the human which had helped it survive thus far. Looking into John¡¯s eyes, F.O.X. tried their best to carefully choose the words to describe the complex array of emotions they were feeling. ¡°I¡¯ve... I¡¯ve always been the weakest Xinos amongst the warriors of my species. I may have some impressive decision-making abilities, but I¡¯ve always doubted my own capabilities. It¡¯s always been a struggle for me to believe in myself, and, when I bonded with you, for the first time, I actually felt like I could trust my decisions. I don¡¯t know how else to phrase it, to describe the confidence I felt, but when I was with you John, I felt like anything was possible, no matter how powerful my opponent was!¡± F.O.X. anxiously looked into John¡¯s eyes for any sign the human thought their words were silly. It had already been subconsciously scanning his biological readings to infer any signs of rejection, and was getting nervous after failing to hear a response from the human it just poured its central core¡¯s feeling to. It imagined this was what feeling embarrassed was like, if a machine could ever feel such a thing, but the intelligence was caught off guard, as John suddenly booped its snoot with his clumsy hands. ¡°Hey!¡± chirped F.O.X. in a sharp, short tone towards his actions. ¡°What was that for!¡± ¡°Haha! You really are a silly machine F.O.X.¡±. The human¡¯s words appeared hurtful to their complex network, and they were equally confused as to why they were laughing at them. The Xyfokit wanted to respond to John telling him as much, but was interrupted by him place his hand over their snout again. ¡°Geez, I would be one heck of an asshole if I didn¡¯t accept your feelings now, wouldn¡¯t I? Thank you, F.O.X., I¡¯m glad I was able to help you, despite being only a simple human.¡± ¡°Yes! I¡¯m... I¡¯m really glad to have met you too, John.¡± They happily hummed, seemingly understanding that the human accepted their feelings. ¡°Likewise, F.O.X.¡± John responded in kind. ¡°Now... What exactly do we do from here?¡± John¡¯s words were both obvious, and realistic, to bring both of them back to reality about their current situation. While the two had finally reconciled with one another, there was still a lot of uncertainty ahead for them. For the foreseeable future, John needed to stay bonded with F.O.X., meaning his participation in the battle royale was now mandatory for his continued survival, and the Xyfokit needed to figure out how they could continue fighting, while keeping John safe from the bond breaking penalties. Looking out the hanger bay doors, the two noticed it was starting to get dark. A lot of time had apparently passed during their struggle, and, with the round having officially ended, John decided it would be best for F.O.X. to return with him to his apartment. He was fairly confident they could fit in through the window... Probably... And was also secretly hoping those suspicious ¡°agents¡± would show up again so he could personally show them he wasn¡¯t an ¡°influenced¡± or whatever the heck they called him. Regardless, John calmly rested his hand against F.O.X.¡¯s orange frame, to which the intelligence chirped with excitement. Jumping onto F.O.X.¡¯s back, the duo started making their way back towards the condos. F.O.X.¡¯s map indicated it was about an hour¡¯s journey away, which John was somehow able to comprehend, a byproduct of being bonded with the Xinos below him. There was a lot they would need to learn together, but both these beings, for however different they were, felt like they had finally learned something important, about each other. Before Round 纬 After leaving the galactic council chambers in a state of polygonal fury, a lone octahedron, is carefully checking their sensors to ensure they aren¡¯t being followed by suspicious monitors. They have been dutifully observing the battle royale games, and like many of the other complex machines and shapes, have their own objectives they wish to see through. The being, known simply as Xygohe, carefully taps the keypad to a secure door leading to their personal office. They are a representative of the Xywunots, a well-respected race, having officially joined the Xinos back in galactic cycle 10,298. They are by no means the most senior, but, after observing countless upsets amongst the races in their current cycle¡¯s tournament, have decided that now is an ideal time to further their own motivations. One of the lucky warriors selected for the games, has been a close aid to Xygohe, where they have each helped one another advance their own personal goals for power. Seeing as they have received plenty of help from their friend, it was only natural the Xywunot would now return the favour to the warrior battling below to survive. Carefully checking their room for the billionth time, while dutifully ensuring there were no nearby listening devices or software monitors, Xygohe carefully boots up their quantum entangled communication monitor, and begins trying to reach the warrior currently fighting on Earth. The device beeps, hums, and emits several rounds of jarring staticky noise, before finally connecting them to the warrior on the other end of the screen. ¡°Xygohe.¡± Drones the warrior in a deep tone. ¡°I wasn¡¯t expecting you to contact me again so quickly.¡± ¡°Apologies, A.N.T.¡± They quickly reply while peeking overtop of their expansive metallic desk for any eavesdroppers. ¡°I don¡¯t have much time, but I have some critical information to pass along. The warrior assigned the identifier A.N.T. offers a single, precise nod to the complex shape, while clapping its mandibles together in anticipation for the upcoming message. The warrior, as its identifier would imply, had chosen the visage of the mighty Formicidae for the battle royale games. It was a small insect by design, yet possessed some impressive qualities that matches particularly well with this unique warrior. A.N.T., was incredibly strong for a Xinos, able to crack literal moons with a single impact from their Xyninium fists, and, when they learned that this tiny species could lift up to 50 times its own body weight, while possessing powerful and thick carapaces for protection, they immediately knew this was the being that would bring them victory in the coming battles. Furthermore, while unmatched strength and defence were equally important to this Xinos warrior, the Formicidae¡¯s last unique trait, guaranteed their selection for this particular Earthly species. The ant, for as simple as it was, possessed incredible respect for hierarchy, living and dying for their queen, while dutifully carrying out their tasks to the death. They did not rebel, question orders, or stray from any of their assigned duties. These creatures, were the ideal soldiers, and A.N.T., would be their general. Having already been a high-ranking member of the Xinos military, leading had always come naturally to them, and now, they finally had the opportunity to personally exercise their commander¡¯s prowess. ¡°The Xyfokit from round ¦Á. They survived, and eliminated C.R.O. We can not proceed as originally planned.¡± A.N.T. aggressively clicked their mandibles after hearing the unfortunate news. While sometimes poor outcomes occurred during times of war, even they were not expecting C.R.O. to have been defeated by F.O.X. Their dossier on F.O.X., seemed to indicate the unit was weak, possessing poor qualities for a warrior, and should have never been selected in the first place for the tournament. Yet somehow, they have not only survived two rounds, but were actively eliminating powerful contenders on their own. ¡°Do you have an update on the human?¡± Echoed the monitor on A.N.T.¡¯s end as the particles suffered a brief bout of interference from the heavy encryption methods. ¡°Yes.¡± Responded the warrior in a sharp and precise tone. ¡°The human John is aware of my warriors infiltrating his living premise, but has been unable to repel the advance force so far. They have attempted basic counter biological warfare against my scouts, resulting in some casualties, but the winds are still in our favour. They have also been unsuccessful in rallying the living space¡¯s supervisor to their cause, further bolstering our advantage.¡± ¡°Perfect.¡± Hummed the Xywunot, as it continues checking over its shoulder to ensure the conversation was still being kept secure. ¡°I would advise you eliminate the human first, then focus on the Xyfokit. They have formally entered a bond on a permanent basis, making them an easy target for weakening F.O.X.¡± ¡°Understood Xygohe. I will make the necessary preparations on my end.¡± ¡°Good.¡± Quietly responded the councillor. ¡°And remember, I cannot have any of the information I¡¯m feeding you lead back to me. I¡¯ll have you know, I almost got found out when I included the banned identifier blocker in the other warrior¡¯s radar systems.¡± ¡°Rest assured Councillor Xygohe. I never fail my assigned missions.¡± A.N.T. confidently clacked their mandibles again, before the quantum particles connection was severed from the caller¡¯s end. A.N.T. briefly looked down at the tiny monitor they were somehow managing to hold between their horridly designed hands. For such a well adapted species such as the Formicidae, A.N.T. was still struggling to become accustomed to life without opposable thumbs. Returning their monitor to their secured landing pod, A.N.T. carefully walks through the expertly crafted dirt tunnels his army has been quickly building since he assumed control over this particular colony. During their time here, A.N.T. has learned from the insects, that they are already engaged in a war across the globe with other defiant species of their kind. This particular genus, the Linepithema humile, currently belonged to the largest super colony in the world, spanning across several countries on the continent named ¡°Europe¡± by the apex species. While this particular army of ants was quite far from their home, they have already started making their foothold in the North American regions of the globe, which A.N.T. just so happened to land on for the battle royale. Utilizing their Xinos technology to enhance their chosen species capabilities, A.N.T. was able to assume complete, and perfect control over the creatures, by perfecting the pheromone chemicals they used for communication. The result, was an army that never questioned their orders, which could also receive and comprehend complex tasks not typically possible amongst the Formicidae. Looking over their work, A.N.T. was pleased with the current progress their army was making. While the insects are small by all measures of the word, their vast numbers, and flawless ability to work together, has already allowed the Xinos to infiltrate every building across the entire province after only a single week. Additionally, whenever one of A.N.T.¡¯s pheromone-laced workers come into contact with another rival colony, the Xinos enhanced pheromones replicated, and rapidly spread amongst the new host, quickly turning that worker¡¯s home colony, into another vassal under A.N.T.¡¯s control. A.N.T. had also taken great care in making sure each and everyone of their warriors were enhanced to the fullest, by spreading trace amounts of Xyninium throughout their carapaces. This not only provided their warriors with enhanced durability, strength, and protection from illness, but served as another efficient means for monitoring the visual feeds of each and every connected warrior. Tracking multiple inputs was a simple task for the incomprehensibly complex machine, with several billion simultaneous visual feeds equating to what the apex species would typically call ¡°child¡¯s play¡± in their view. A.N.T. was confident they currently had the most accurate information on each of the participating warriors, with none of them, being aware they were all currently being watched. ¡°No one ever pays attention to the little guys.¡± They quietly hum to themselves, as they continue walking through their expansive military base. ¡°And that¡¯s exactly how I will win.¡± A.N.T. arrives at their war room, where several monitors and sensors have already been prepared, ready to alert them to any changes in environmental conditions deemed relevant. They already have multiple visual feeds on all the remaining Xinos in North America, and by tomorrow, the handful of soldiers they have sent on a special assignment across the ¡°Atlantic Ocean¡±, should finally make landfall, and formally bring the Linepithema humile super colony firmly under their control. In a month, every inch of this planet will be monitored by their soldiers, placing A.N.T. in a tactical position of superiority. A.N.T.¡¯s monitors snap to an alert setup in John¡¯s apartment. While they had briefly observed a Xinos entering his living premise earlier in the day, they are pleasantly surprised to see the target of everyone¡¯s interest, F.O.X., has joined John for the night in his premise. Several of the ants currently in the apartment scurry away underneath the baseboards as the bulky machine carefully enters through the shattered window. While John was thrilled at finally getting to experience an exhilarating ride and condominium climbing scenario, they were slightly annoyed learning that F.O.X. had completely shattered their window when they leapt from his room earlier, mistakenly believing the fake message to have been from John themselves. The soldiers observe the Xinos tuck its tail slightly, to which John tells it not to worry about it. F.O.X. didn¡¯t know after all, and it was only trying to help, so John begrudgingly forgave them for the misunderstanding. This thankfully improved their mood, as the intelligence quickly set to work splicing and welding one of their spare Xyninium cubes into a makeshift fortified wall. John eventually walks over to the thermostat, and cranks the heat up, as the room is essentially freezing, having been exposed to the harsh natural elements all day. The heating and ventilation systems hum to life with fury, unfortunately displacing some of the soldiers which had been scouting additional areas of the apartment for new vantage points. A.N.T. notes that their sacrifice will not be forgotten, offering them a brief salute, while quickly assigning more units to increase patrols in the area. Remembering their previous conversation with Xygohe, A.N.T. visually confirms an active bond between F.O.X. and John, validating their contact¡¯s information, while equally frustrating them. They have been given both a blessing, and a curse, all within the span of a single day. Here before them, was the perfect opportunity to eliminate the Xyfokit, and obtain control over the human named John. However, the non-combat period has just begun, meaning any hostile weapons action by participating Xinos, would lead to the immediate deletion of A.N.T.¡¯s conscious. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. The insect aggressively claps their mandibles together, as they turn to continue patrolling their military base. They have only just begun their rounds, and next up on their list, was the prisoner¡¯s quarter. Continuing down the winding tunnels, A.N.T. spends several hours traveling to the location deemed most appropriate from their analysis, for housing prisoners of war. Or, more accurately, sacrifices for each round¡¯s mandatory kill count. Entering the caverns, A.N.T. observes the row of hostages neatly bound against the walls. They already have an impressive collection of 17 captives, and have additionally removed all of their unique identifiers to conceal their presence from future radar scans. After analysing sensitive information shared from their council contact, and, with their own personal knowledge of Xinos military affairs, A.N.T. is well aware that the system ensuring rules are adhered to, is separate from the one the council uses to track and monitor all valid combatants. More Xinos are alive than the representatives believe to be, and they will only find out once the rounds continue progressing deeper and deeper. Thinking towards the future, the only potential problem A.N.T. will experience, is the problematic ¡°shrinking acceptable fields of battle¡± criteria. However, they have already planed for soldiers to test their theories in the coming days. Still deep in thought, A.N.T. calmly walks over towards one of their captives, L.Y.N., a cat-based predator, before placing a mark along the cell they are held in. This Xinos, will be the next tribute in 6 days, and their valiant sacrifice will join the likes of D.E.E., who was the first kill they recorded during the games. Before long, A.N.T. notices it has already transitioned to morning, a pity, since they were rather fond of the night, but they quickly move these thoughts to background processes. There is still plenty of work they need to accomplish, and they are still waiting on Xygohe to confirm the consensus on a vital ruling, pivotal to their victory condition. While the Xinos are banned from harming one another during the non-combat period, do creatures under your control, count as having met this criteria, if they engage the enemy directly on your behalf? Taking this a step further, what about collateral damage caused by say, a building, collapsing on itself, from critical foundational damage caused by workers under your control? A.N.T. has already begun meticulously directing the workers under their control to destabilize key sections of John¡¯s apartment building in preparation for the response they receive. Current estimates place the progress at being 5 days out from completion, but, after seeing F.O.X. in such close proximity, a tinge of nervousness pulses throughout their circuits for the upcoming plan. F.O.X., by all observations, is not a skilled warrior, yet they have still managed to eliminate the most favoured contender, G.O.R., and one of the top 50 Xinos, C.R.O. during the first two rounds. ¡°Never assume you know more than your enemy.¡± They quietly hum to themselves, while continuing to observe other Xinos through their warrior¡¯s visual feeds. These wise words the commander has always lived by, were also curiously found reflected in the primitive warfare literate written by the apex species themselves, earning a brief smile across their monitors from the seemingly shared truth amongst their species. A.N.T. knew they shouldn¡¯t be worried about F.O.X., but they still wished to error on the side of caution, since nothing was certain during times of war. Calculated decisions backed by data, and strong communication channels were what won wars, and this battle royale, would be no different for this particular Xinos. A.N.T. eventually reaches their personal chambers, where they check a few more signatures of interest. Their scouts have finally catalogued all of the humans in the province, and determined that the next highest compatibility score closest to them, is a human by the name of Jake Valkin. Their warriors have spotted them uncomfortably close to the Xinos identified as T.Y.R., but they are not worried. Preliminary reports have suggested that Jake had originally formed a bond with F.O.X., yet the Xinos ended the bond on their own terms, seeking out John instead. This was an abnormality for the general, but their wisdom led them to the startling conclusion, that Jake was simply not worthy of the potentially keen insight F.O.X. possessed in choosing a bonding partner. To pass on a 40% compatibility boost, this ¡°Jake¡± must be a terribly poor excuse for a warrior, they thought. A.N.T.¡¯s eyes then shift back towards monitoring John and F.O.X. Nothing abnormal happened during the night, and they are just beginning their first official day together as a team. The current battle, appears to be a fierce struggle against the contents encased within a calcium carbonite shell and a frying pan. The Xinos have no need for food, and it appears John has recently learned this fact after F.O.X.¡¯s refusal to sample to blackened delicacy they had so carefully cooked for them. A.N.T.¡¯s scouts have communicated the air within the building is currently rich with carbon, and several loud sensors have also been setoff due to the smog John created while cooking in an effort to conceal his meal of choice from any would be spies, but A.N.T wouldn¡¯t be fooled so easily. There will be plenty of time for the intelligence to learn more about their target¡¯s particular living habits, but for now, A.N.T is content with carefully observing them from the safety of their scouts. After all, they are still waiting on critical information before formally committing to their plans of attack, on how best to eliminate, this formidable duo. ... ... ... A quick, nervous knock echoes throughout Xylophos¡¯ office. The former emperor has only just recently returned to their personal chambers after meeting with the council for the conclusion of round ¦Â¡¯s analysis and discussion, and they are already apparently being summoned by another eager member of their council. Shrugging their shoulders in the 24th dimension, Xylophos begrudgingly gets up from the chair they had recently seated themselves in, before teleporting to the complex Xyninium reinforced door to unlocked it. Their timing couldn¡¯t have been any better, as they swing the door open to the Xinos behind it quickly tapping against Xylophos exposed central core, instead of the Xyninium metal that was there moments ago. ¡°Ah! Umm, Emperor Xylophos!¡± Beeped the octahedron in short, erratic tones. ¡°I-I¡¯m s-s-sorry for tapping on you¡ª¡± ¡°Pay it no mind, Xygohe.¡± Calmly replied the intelligence, as they lightly brushed their core in an effort to restore is lustre. ¡°And it is just Xylophos now, I am no longer your emperor, after all.¡± ¡°R-r-r-right, Xylophos!¡± They quickly beeped, their speakers hovering on the cusp of relief and guilt for their recent actions. ¡°I... I was hoping to speak with you regarding some of the more... Finer rules of the battle royale. There are some concerns I have, which I don¡¯t believe are clearly addressed in our doctrine.¡± Xylophos examines the shivering octahedron carefully. They are not too familiar with this particular representative, but know they have been on the council for many galactic cycles. For them to ask about clarifying some rules about their tournament, there was probably a deeper meaning behind it. Being a being of curiosity, a maniacal grin grows across the intelligence¡¯s facial display, as it formally invites the twitching councillor into their personal office. Gesturing to a nearby seat, Xygohe picks up on the obvious cue, and orients themselves to face towards Xylophos desk. The former emperor sits down as well, then materializes a set of cups and boiling water. Xylophos grabs one of the Xyninium cups, before asking ¡°One cube, or two, councillor?¡± ¡°Two please.¡± They quietly respond, as the machine gracefully adds two cubes of molecules comprised of C12H22O11 to their cup, before pouring a boiling mixture of modified Xytrolyte into their crucible. Xylophos matches the councillors request for two cubes, and, after pouring their own cup, calmly stirs the mixture until it can be clearly classified as homogeneous. Then, after blowing some simple cooling winds across the hot liquid¡¯s surface, Xylophos gracefully takes a sip of their refined beverage, while waiting for Xygohe to do the same. The councillor is jittery, barely managing to keep the cup and liquid stable in their 8th dimensional appendages, as they struggle to stabilize the elegant beverage near their monitor. Some of the hot liquid unfortunately spills from the cup onto their core, causing them to jump slightly at the sudden change in textures they process. Then, after placing their beverage down, they manage to articulate their response to Xylophos in precise tones. ¡°My question, is with regards to the non-combat clause of our doctrine.¡± They manage to say in a tone free of stutters, surprising Xylophos briefly. ¡°What would happen if say... Hypothetically speaking of course, a Xinos were to instruct soldiers under their control, who aren¡¯t Xinos themselves, to damage the foundation of a building containing another Xinos, causing it to collapse, killing the Xinos inside. Would... Would that violate the non-combat ruling?¡± Xylophos calmly leans back in their chair, while quietly taking another sip from their refreshing beverage before responding. ¡°My my, Xygohe, that sounds like an oddly specific hypothetical scenario.¡± They beep in short, pulsing tones, before placing their cup back on the table. The former emperor doesn¡¯t answer for a bit, instead choosing to watch the octahedron before them fidget and shift uncomfortably within their chair. Xylophos is no fool, and they are well aware what the councillor is trying to get at. The intelligence¡¯s gaze falls to their computer system nearby, and their polygonal digits nonchalantly glide across the terminal, bringing into focus the building currently housing John and the intelligence known as F.O.X. Xygohe jumps slightly upon seeing the building come into focus, as they continue to shift within their chair. On the screen, is a live video feed of John and F.O.X., participating in what appears to be a textbook example on how not to cook an egg. The room is filled with smoke, and both the human and the Xinos within it, are desperately trying to blow the foul cloud out of the room, with F.O.X. being most effective after transforming their cannon into a ¡°fan only¡± mode. Next, Xylophos swipes the visual feed slightly, before pretending to slip their fingers, ¡°accidently¡± pausing the footage on the view of several Formicidae, digging tunnels into critical structural supports of the building¡¯s loadbearing walls. ¡°Ah, why an ant... Curious creatures these are, councillor Xygohe. My apologies, but it does appear my digits are clumsier than I would like to admit! Now then, as per your... Hypothetical scenario, I see no reason as to how such an action you described, would violate the non-combat clause of our doctrine.¡± Another grin, materialized across Xylophos monitor, as they finally observed the trembling councillor relax ever so slightly before them. ¡°I see.¡± Responded Xygohe in as calm a whirl as they could muster. ¡°Thank you, Xylophos, for your keen insight into my... Hypothetical scenario.¡± ¡°Right then.¡± Hummed the former emperor as they brought their multidimensional digits together, rhythmically tapping them along their edges. ¡°I... I¡¯ll be going now then.¡± Whooped the octahedron, as they quickly made their way outside of the intimidating personal quarters of the being known as Xylophos. Waiting for the sounds of the clearly corrupt council member¡¯s footsteps to dissipate, Xylophos then calmly turns their attention back towards their monitors, before forwarding the footage to the live video feeds once again. John and F.O.X. were still happily getting to know each other, with each taking turns asking the other questions, in an effort to further strengthen their bond together. The intelligence smiles, an attempt to mask the tightness currently gripping their central core, as it struggles against its own desires to succumb to the corrupt dealings that all of the council members appeared involved in. Xylophos wanted to warn the contenders about the upcoming struggles they were going to face, but also knew, that if they were to stoop to the council¡¯s own immoral levels, that would make them no better in the grand scheme of their battle royale. Closing their thoughts, Xylophos gently placed their hand across the screen. It felt heavier than usual, and, just before formally cutting their visual feed with the unaware contenders, they softly uttered some final words of advice, that they tragically wished their favoured participants, would be able to hear. ¡°Good luck, F.O.X. and John.¡± Round 纬 It has been several days since the unlikely, yet almost fated duo of F.O.X. and John have bonded for the Xinos deadly battle royale tournament. During this time, John has taken the opportunity to learn more about the Xinos and their species, along with teaching F.O.X. all he could about humans as well. And, while the crash course on all things alien was riveting to the professional gamer turned science fiction enthusiast, he was amazed at how the Xinos, despite their highly advanced civilization, could fail to understand basic concepts like sarcasm, amongst other things. Regardless, John was quick to help F.O.X. learn some of the more common mannerisms amongst humans, but was having difficulties explaining to the advanced intelligence how most of those rules seemingly just went out the window regarding his stream chat... ¡°John...¡± F.O.X. quietly beeps while watching the text scroll by at a record pace. ¡°Oh, ignore that, it¡¯s just... You know, chat doing its thing.¡± The gamer responds with a heavy sigh, while banking around a corner to deliver some scarily accurate headshots to 3 players in his current Fork Knife ranked match. ¡°I mean... I can understand the ¡°rekt¡± spam as you call it, but the ¡°he¡¯s skibidi hacking lololz¡±, ¡°giga rizz energy¡±, and ¡°cooked sigma¡±? I... You can¡¯t even cook a standard deviation!¡± The machine quietly whooped in alternating high and low-pitched tones. ¡°Oh.... Errr... How do I explain...¡± fumbles John, as his fingers continue to effortlessly glide across the keyboard with uncanny precision. While trying to translate the seemingly endless ¡°brain rot¡± scrolling past his chat for the poor intelligence, John¡¯s attention snaps back to his match after the nanomachines monitoring his peripheral vision alert him to an incoming volley of grenades. John quickly swaps to his pistol in response and fires a single bullet into each of the explosive eggs while they are still in flight, perfectly hitting all 12 of them with his 12-clip capacity. ¡°Just... Categorize them under the brain rot folder, and I¡¯ll try to explain them after the match.¡± Still whooping in low tones, the machine quietly went back to moderating the stream chat, choosing to focus on bots and spammers, instead of the bizarre usage of the English language by his viewers. After several more minutes, John eventually finishes the match in 1st place... Again... Just like his previous other 5 matches, and lets out a heavy sigh. ¡°I... Think I¡¯m done with Fork Knife for now, F.O.X.¡± Sensing John¡¯s emotions through their connection, the machine tilts their head towards the human, knowing his words had a deeper meaning. John then takes off his headset, shuts down the stream, and rolls back in his chair, making sure to spin around several times before locking his gaze on the ceiling. For all intensive purposes, John¡¯s journey to the top of the Fork Knife ranking boards, was going too well. Ever since F.O.X. brought him back to life with the nanomachines, all of his basic human characteristics were, in the words of the Xyfokit currently sitting beside him, ¡°upgraded¡±. John¡¯s innate reflexes, cognitive processing capabilities, and hand-eye coordination, were all essentially perfected by the tiny robots, which translated into god-like performance during his gameplay. ¡°Maybe I really am a hacker now...¡± They softly exhaling while continuing to look at the fan tirelessly spinning above them. John was proud of the skills he developed through countless hours of playing Fork Knife. His firearm accuracy, on the fly thinking, and perseverance, were all things he considered important in become a professional gamer, especially one skilled in handling dynamic matches with brutal RNG. But, with how things were currently going, John didn¡¯t feel like he was earning his role at the top, but was simply taking advantage of the robots floating around inside him. Presently, his organs were still severely damaged from the toxic effects of C.R.O.¡¯s Xyboulinum, and, even with the help of the nanomachines, couldn¡¯t be fully repaired until the later rounds. Furthermore, they could only function if John remained bonded with the Xinos, since the current technological limitations prevented fully autonomous creations. ¡°I... Think I¡¯m going to quit playing Fork Knife.¡± John says in a heavy voice, prompting F.O.X.¡¯s ears to fold into a compact form along their skull. ¡°But... You... Really like Fork Knife, John... I¡¯m... I didn¡¯t mean to¡ª¡± Looking at the machine now curling into a ball, John can¡¯t help but muster a soft smile, before gently petting the metal along F.O.X.¡¯s head. ¡°Hey now. You only did what you thought was right F.O.X., and besides, I would currently be dead if it wasn¡¯t for you. It¡¯s... Also not like I¡¯m quitting forever... It¡¯ll just be until the whole, ¡°world battle royale¡± thing is over.¡± F.O.X. looks up into John¡¯s eyes, having learned to enjoy the human¡¯s sensitive touch along its monitors. Nuzzling into John¡¯s hand, the machine continues to appreciate the attention it¡¯s receiving, before John continues their thoughts. ¡°That said, I hope you¡¯ve been paying attention F.O.X., I did manage to show you some of my more unique strategies with the new upgrades I received!¡± ¡°Yes!¡± Quickly chirps F.O.X. in a whirl, while their headlamps flash through a collage of vibrant colours at the human¡¯s words. ¡°I¡¯ve already analysed and catalogued all of your signature moves, along with indexing them for appropriate battle situations!¡± F.O.X.¡¯s tail appendage begins to wag after their explanation, as John gets up from his chair to walk over to his pair of running shoes. ¡°Perfect.¡± John says while changing into some sweatpants for an upcoming jogging session. ¡°Now, how about we finish up our last bit of scouting before the next round begins? I think we still have... 20 more hours?¡± John looks in the corner of his peripherals and sees a small timer counting down until the start of the Xinos next battle royale round. It¡¯s a small augmented feature, but the machines have apparently taken great liberty in the information they¡¯ve chose to display for the human. Often, John just needs to think about the information he wants, and it seemingly just appears across his vision in an efficient and easy to digest format. ¡°Roger!¡± Beeps F.O.X., as they also get up from the floor and head towards the Xyninium reinforced window of John¡¯s apartment. ¡°I¡¯ll handle the downtown area again, while you focus on the forests.¡± John says while setting a timer on his phone before heading out the door. F.O.X. then leaps from the 8th floor of the building while activating their basic light reflecting cloaking field, an upgrade made possible by combining the Vulpes vulpes trait for stealth with the current technological restrictions. The cloaking field isn¡¯t perfect, but it¡¯s enough to sufficiently disguise themselves from most human onlookers. On the streets, John picks up pace without issue, with each stride reminding him of the mind clearing benefits of his favourite form of exercise. Crisp autumn air flows into his lungs with each and every breath he takes, and, despite going at a good rate, John doesn¡¯t feel any fatigue building up within his muscles. ¡°This really is surreal.¡± John utters, while continuing to run down the busy sidewalk dodging pedestrian traffic. On his journey, John sees some of the damage from the most recent Xinos round, mostly comprised of buildings with several shattered windows, and bits and pieces of asphalt missing from the roads. He shakes his head as none of the humans around him seem to find the situation still odd, which causes him to reflect further on how exactly the Xinos are controlling society so efficiently. John had always assumed that, with humans being mostly rational animals, someone would be raising alarm bells... Somewhere. But, it seems to them that Earth really doesn¡¯t care about all of the damage happening from the giant robots. John briefly remembers a couple conspiracy theories about the universe being one massive simulation, and seriously considers them to be plausible. Entering the downtown core, John¡¯s eyes scan the buildings and alleyways to hopefully identify other Xinos in hiding, biding their time for the quickly approaching round. The nanomachines are helpful in highlighting areas of interest for his eyes, but he is largely unsuccessful in finding any hidden Xinos. They had learned from F.O.X., that each Xinos had chosen a species that best represented them, and would probably prefer to engage in combat with an environment that matched their species type. John was then able to use this information to theorize that some Xinos might have chosen rats or raccoons, since those were often quite successful in urban environments. Nonetheless, John¡¯s final scouting attempt fails to produce any results, prompting him to touch his right ear to activate a communication channel with F.O.X. ¡°F.O.X., this is John, do you copy?¡± The gamer says out loud while continuing to jog around the city. ¡°Copy, John, did you find any Xinos?¡± ¡°Negative.¡± John replies, as he continues weaving around civilians on the crowded streets. ¡°Want to connect visuals to confirm?¡± John laughs slightly at his words, still trying to adjust to the fact powerful science fiction level of technologies were currently floating around inside him, listening to his every command. The tiny robots, were instrumental to these cool new features, and allowed John to communicate with F.O.X. over large distances through an encrypted connection, in addition to ¡°live streaming¡± what each other was seeing. A series of sharp beeps and tones bounce around in John¡¯s skull, before a small screen in the bottom right corner of his vision opens up into a monitor. F.O.X. has just connected their visual receptors to the humans, and the two are now viewing each other¡¯s visual feeds in real time. John notices that F.O.X. has already reached a forest to the south of them, personally impressed at the machine¡¯s speed to have already reached that location. ¡°Negative.¡± Hums a robotic voice in a staticky tone inside John¡¯s skull. ¡°I¡¯m not seeing any obvious signs of Xinos activity.¡± ¡°I figured as much.¡± John says, coming to a stop outside of a parking garage. John looks at his hands, then runs them through his hair, before once again, scoffing at the senses before him. His palms are free of sweat, his hair is still dry without an ounce of perspiration, and his legs and lungs feel no different from when he first started his jog more than 40 minutes ago. ¡°These nanomachines really are something...¡± John exclaims with a heavy breath, still amazed at how efficient everything has become for him. ¡°I¡¯m... Gonna start heading back to the apartment.¡± John says over their connection, to which F.O.X. quickly replies ¡°understood John. I¡¯m going to continue scouting, but will rendezvous with you back at base, over!¡± John smiles at the short, yet enjoyable radio communication chatter, then shrugs his shoulders, entering into a running sprint back home. ¡°Now, lets see just how efficient these tiny machines are!¡± Dashing through the streets, and, being met with some confused onlookers, John manages to keep a sprinter¡¯s pace for around 10 minutes before noticing his legs are starting to feel just a little tired. John slows his pace, and ultimately decides to enjoy the riveting sea of concreate structures on his way back home. ... John reaches his apartment without issue and enthusiastically enters the revolving doors. The lobby is sparsely filled with other residents, and the elevator still has the ¡°Out of Service¡± sign placed in front. Rolling his eyes in a playful manner, John opens the nearby stairwell and quickly bounds up several flights to his residence on the 8th floor. Entering his apartment, John wonders if he should even shower after the ¡°exercise¡± he has just gone through, seeing as his body is still perfectly fine, even after running for close to 2 hours. John decides to shower anyways, if anything to retain a sense of normalcy after such a strenuous activity, and enjoys the warm water rolling down his body. Dressed, and, ready to relax, John then crashes on his living room couch, and tunes in to watching F.O.X.¡¯s scouting mission. Trees and fields fly by in the corner of his vision, but his brain is able to track and understand the briskly passing scenery without issue. Several woodland critters are highlighted when the machine spots them, but no Xinos are found during the journey. Leaning into some pillows, John has finally started to get comfortable, when a sharp snap echoes throughout his complex. John quickly leaps to his feet, as the rumbling is getting progressively louder. Some of the appliances across the counters begin to shift and moan, as John has the startling realization, that everything is sliding towards him. *Eroom* *SMASH* John¡¯s eyes widen, as they quickly snap to his feet from the sudden shift below. The floor, is cracking, and a large chunk of concrete, mainly his living residence, has just dislodged from the condominium complex. Jagged, crumbling edges of stone and rebar litter the scene before him, as John¡¯s once tranquil residence, is now hurling down towards the streets below. John catches his footing, doing his best to run up against the quickly rising incline, and leaps towards an exposed edge of stone nearby. ¡°Gah!!¡± John yells after completing a maneuver he previously thought was impossible in movies, as he looks over his shoulder to see the room smash into the streets below. Blood curdling screams fill John¡¯s ears, as the sound of crunching metal continues to grow louder and louder. John¡¯s palms start to sweat, barely managing to maintain their grip, while his brain racks itself over what actions he should take next. More concrete brings to shift, as larger and larger sections of the building start to loosen from their supporting beams. John looks up, and sees the top of the building learning forward. His brain makes the tragic connection, that the whole building is falling over, and he¡¯s still dangling 8 storeys above the ground. John gulps, swallowing the saliva pooling in his mouth, as his eyes lock to the door of his apartment. The door has swung open from the impact, having come loose along the hinges from the snapping base, and the human figures, that door, is their best odds for survival. ¡°JOHN!!¡± F.O.X.¡¯s voice rings throughout his ears, causing him to flinch from the painful tone he has just received. John doesn¡¯t respond, unable to say anything, as his brain continues its mission on overdrive to save his life. Adrenaline is quickly released into his body, and the nanomachines sense the urgency from which the powerful concoction of chemicals is flooding his muscles with. The robots spring into action, increasing oxygen flow, while priming each and every fibre of muscle to exert strength beyond their usual limits. John¡¯s heart booms from the powerful stimulating effects, racing and pounding against his chest. His arms tighten, and he swings himself up onto the collapsing kitchen, catching his feet on the now angled counters. ¡°The buildings collapsing!¡± John yells to the Xyfokit still pinging him over their connection, while looking behind him to chunks of the building raining down from above. ¡°I¡¯m on my way John!!!¡± F.O.X. quickly replies while shifting their gears into overdrive. The shifting eases ever so slightly, and John estimates he is now at a roughly 45-degree angle with the ground below. The building seems to have thankfully ¡°caught¡± itself during the collapse, but he is still too high up to safely drop, if he could even stomach the idea itself. John also knows that, at least thanks to mathematics, he is now ¡°technically¡± no longer 8 storeys from the ground, but still doesn¡¯t want to test the new, lower distance with his limbs. Evidently, the creaks and moans of metal snapping once again fill John¡¯s ears, as the building continues shifting after a brief rest along its main supporting beam. John seriously wonders why the world has to be so cruel, as he resolves himself for an upcoming action sequence. The nanomachines coursing throughout his body, have just released a prompt suggestion across his vision. The robots have proposed, that John attempt leaping towards the open door, enter through the apartment across the hall, and then slide down the building from the other side. ¡°42% expected survival rate...¡± John gulps as he attempts to swallow the harsh survival odds presented to him by the seemingly perfect machines. Having nothing to lose, and, after seeing more and more pieces of rubble dislodging from the nearby floors, John tenses his legs, and gets ready to leap. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Urgency fuels John¡¯s legs, as he somehow manages to jump almost 6ft vertically towards the swung-open door of his collapsed apartment. John lets out a heavy gasp after just seeing his life flash before his eyes, then tenses his palms for the remainder of the upcoming struggle. John¡¯s eyes then lock with the next set of doors. He smiles briefly, as they too, have also appeared to come loose along their hinges. Green arrows then appear augmented across his vision, charting a potential path for the gamer to take. John leaps into the tilted room of his hallway neighbor, making sure to follow the path of least resistance displayed for him. Several red ¡°X¡¯s¡± pop up across various furniture¡¯s and exposed beams, as John continues jumping from fixture to fixture. The sound of snapping metal continues to grow in frequency, further fueling John¡¯s sense for survival. He manages to find some footholds, breaking into a sprint against the increasing angle of the building, as more and more walls begin cracking all around him. John pushes his legs to the limit, fighting against the force of gravity, as he shields his face and leaps through the opposing window. Shards of glass shatter and scrape against his skin, drawing blood along his exposed flesh, as his feet finally land on the jagged exterior of the building. John quickly wipes his eyes, some blood catching across the back of his hand, as he breaks into a sprint down the backside of the building. He always thought running down a collapsing building would be a cool scene. But, now having personally experienced the sensation, regrets ever thinking this was a sensible idea in the action movies he¡¯s watched. John continues darting and weaving between the sharp pieces of exposed concrete and rebar, as the angle he¡¯s running at gradually begins to taper out to an almost level plane. The building has clearly snapped in two, and he¡¯s almost reached the end of the frantic, improvised runway. Having no where else to go, John decides to leap the last remaining distance, figuring he is only a few stories from the ground now. John prays the nanomachines within him will help break his fall, as he prepares for impact with the hard ground below. *BOOSH!* A sudden quake jolts John¡¯s senses, as his eyes quickly widen at the scene rapidly evolving in front of him. Erupting from the ground in an almost comical, yet horrifying display, is a sink hole, right at John¡¯s estimated zone of impact. And, while a suddenly appearing void in the ground would be alarming to almost anyone on planet Earth, the frightening part is not the disappearance of the seemingly solid ground, but the creatures writhing around within it! Twisting and spiraling up in defiance against gravity, creating a vicious vortex of insect fury, is an army of worker ants. ¡°You¡¯ve got to be kidding me.¡± John somehow manages to utter, as the swarm of insects rise into the air, forming a convenient ¡°glove¡± to catch the falling and flailing human. John¡¯s body impacts with the swarm of insects, transferring most of his kinetic energy, and knocking several of them loose from the intricate design they have weaved together to create. John gasps for breath, as his body is quickly engulfed by the hoard of ants, covering each and every inch they can find. His head twists and turns from the sudden changes in momentum he¡¯s forced to experience, as more and more of the creatures work on restraining his movements further. He can feel each of their legs and pincers crawling around and digging into his flesh, as light from the surface quickly vanishes from his vision, instead replaced by the damp darkness of the void below. John tries to scream, make any kind of sound to showcase his displeasure to his would-be saviours, be he¡¯s unable to utter even the slightest of sounds. More and more of the ants continue to flood over his body, biting and tearing into his exposed skin. The endless army of pin pricks triggers uncomfortable memories over horrible ways to day, and John seriously hopes this isn¡¯t the end for him. He can vaguely make out frantic cries from F.O.X. across their connection, but is unable to make sense over what the Xinos is trying to tell him. It¡¯s obvious based on their stuttering tone that they¡¯re concerned, but sights and sounds are becoming increasingly difficult for the gamer to process. More moments pass, until John finally passes out, losing himself to the swarm of ants and surrounding darkness. Warning systems sound blaring alarms to the tiny nanobots coursing throughout John¡¯s body. The army of angry triangles triggers the machines to spring into action at the invaders, disbursing and releasing pain suppressants to appease John¡¯s spasming neurons. Additional alerts then trigger across the robots, indicating a powerful sedative has now been detected flowing throughout their host¡¯s veins. The machines quickly flood their surroundings with various proteins aimed at dissolving the potent compound, but they are quickly overwhelmed. More pings reach the machines from F.O.X., urging them to maintain connection and enter life preserving functionality. Help is on the way, and they will only need to survive for a few more hours. More warnings pop up to the tiny submarines, indicating yet another substance has entered John¡¯s bloodstream. Connections quickly begin vanishing over the nanobot¡¯s collective network, as more and more of the machines begin losing their signal with the host program. Images flash between the still functioning nanobots, identifying the new substance to be a counter injection of ant micromachines. The nanoants act with a precise fury, targeting and disabling John¡¯s own robots, forcing them into a state of suspended animation. The tide is quickly turning in the microscopic war, as more and more of John¡¯s nanobots are losing against the overwhelming forces of his ant invaders. The machine¡¯s connection with F.O.X. is then severed, and, in a last ditched effort to keep their host alive, all of the still functioning nanobots reduce their own power outputs to minimum, focusing on keeping all of John¡¯s vitals and organs stable instead. ... ... ... John lets outs a sharp gasp for breath as his vision gradually starts coming into focus. His head is filled with a pulsing pain, throbbing against his bruised skull, and the dim amount of light entering his eyes is excruciatingly painful. ¡°Good... You¡¯re awake.¡± Come a slightly out of tune robotic voice, as John¡¯s eyes struggle to work without the help of his convenient robots. ¡°A... Xinos...?¡± John manages to utter with baited breath, as he finally manages to focus his vision on the creature in front of him. His eyes bounce around, examining their unique visage in full, where his mind eventually makes the connection, he is speaking with a giant¡ª ¡°Let me guess, your name, is A.N.T.¡± John says with a hint of intrigue as he watches the robotic insect recoil slightly from his astute observations, prompting a soft smirk from the captured gamer. ¡°Impressive...¡± Chirps the robotic soldier, as it claps its razor-sharp mandibles together, accenting the characteristic blades they are comprised of to the human. ¡°You are correct, I, am the Xinos reassigned the identifier A.N.T., former general of the grand Xinos empire. And you, the human John, are my prisoner of war.¡± The machine boops in a series of precise tones and whirls, while gesturing to the cell John¡¯s currently bound inside. ¡°I see...¡± John says, as he continues to examine the impressive metallic structure and composition of what appears to be the next ¡°villain of the week¡± to the gamer. A.N.T.¡¯s carapace appears to be heavily reinforced, with shingle-like plating all across their abdomen and thorax. Their compound eyes are an army of tiny monitors, with each screen pulsing a different shade of light to create the illusion of a single iris, and their legs are thin, yet surprisingly jagged. A.N.T.¡¯s antennae¡¯s flick and rotate around their head, as the Xinos simply observes John¡¯s silence and interest in its body. Then, after a few more cursory glances of his captor, John laughs when he sees the unique object resting atop A.N.T.¡¯s head. ¡°Ha! You... You¡¯re seriously wearing a general¡¯s hat!¡± John struggles to laugh against the pain still pulsing throughout his body, prompting the Xinos to briefly look at the fixture nestled between its monitors. ¡°Your point?¡± replies the machine in a sour tone, as John fails to wipe the mixture of tears gleefully dripping down his face. ¡°Ahh... Never mind, haha!¡± Continues John, as the monitors across A.N.T.¡¯s face illuminate to create an angry pouting face towards him. ¡°Regardless, you should at least know the severity of the situation you¡¯re in, human.¡± A.N.T. retorts, while readjusting the decorated green head top. ¡°You, are currently bonded with the Xinos known as F.O.X., and, as such, will be executed once they try to rescue you during the next round, forcing the bond breaking penalty on their frame, for an easy, efficient kill.¡± John looks at the robotic ant, and lets out another heavy sigh while shaking his head. ¡°And... To think I would be captured, by yet another Xinos looking to do the exact same thing. Using me as bait to draw F.O.X. out, then killing them after putting my life in danger.¡± John pauses slightly, as a quirky grin gradually begins to grow across his face. ¡°And? What exactly do you find so... Amusing about your predicament, human?¡± A.N.T. responds while cocking their head at the human¡¯s unexpected reactions. ¡°It¡¯s just... Well... This really is kinda clich¨¦, you know?¡± John¡¯s words cause the machine to twitch slightly, before fixing their stance and beeping a professional response. ¡°Clich¨¦ or not, I do not concern myself with such trivialities. The Xinos, are different, and my plans have never failed before. My plan is the optimal solution to the complex problem involving the Xyfokit¡¯s unexpected power gains from your bond. The penalty lasts for precisely 20 Earth seconds, so you will be kept alive until F.O.X. is in the necessary position for elimination.¡± ¡°That¡¯s what they always say.¡± Scoffs John, making sure to look the Xinos directly in the monitors. ¡°All of the ¡°bad guys¡± say they will be different, and yet, their plan is always foiled in the end. Say, you¡¯ve got a pretty expansive database on our literature, don¡¯t you? Might I suggest running a scan on my words? Think of them as a... Friendly bit of advice from the, ¡°human¡± you Xinos are so captivated by...¡± John completes his snarky response, making sure to accent and roll the words where most appropriate. ¡°I can assure you. Holding me captive like... This... Is a recipe for disaster, and will result in you losing to F.O.X. The lights along A.N.T.¡¯s monitors briefly flash through various screens. Beeps and boops faintly trickle out from their speakers, with the monitors alternating between vibrant greens and reds. The machine then tilts their head to the side, their antennas following suit, before ultimately clearing their throat to speak with John again. ¡°I see... I would expect no less from one of Earths battle royale experts.¡± A.N.T. whoops in a tone reminiscent of respect to John. ¡°It does appear, that those often held ¡°prisoner¡±, end up ¡°turning the tables¡± against their captors in the end. And, when such events are cross referenced against your unique strategies, it can easily be assumed that F.O.X. may already have some countermeasure for this situation.¡± A glint courses throughout John¡¯s eyes, as the machine continues to contemplate his words. ¡°And...¡± John says, making sure to pause to build some element of suspense for the machine now intently staring at him. ¡°I may be willing to share some of my insights on why F.O.X. has become so powerful... But...¡± John nonchalantly drifts his gaze towards the metal shackles binding his arms and legs, before raising an eyebrow towards the metallic ant. ¡°A trade for a trade.¡± A.N.T. hums in a cold and low tone towards him, before unlocking the shackles around John¡¯s wrists and ankles. ¡°Thanks... Much appreciated, A.N.T.¡± John says while rubbing his wrists lightly, while struggling to contain his amusement over the apparent ease of manipulating the Xinos. ¡°Care to start?¡± John says while sitting down in the cell to get comfortable. A.N.T. then motions for some of the soldiers standing nearby to bring over some tablet-like devices. The tiny ants are quick to respond, and within seconds, have already activated a hologram displaying two large robotic animals. The first is shaped like a typical red fox, while the other, is shaped like a silverback gorilla. John pieces the two together, as A.N.T. begins explaining their findings. ¡°My dossier on the Xyfokit known as F.O.X., seemed to indicate they were a soldier with poor qualities. No notable military achievements, sparse growth in their combat capabilities, and their confidence... By all measures of our species, they should have never been selected as one of our top 100,000 warriors to compete in the battle royale. And yet, this Xyfokit, managed to slay our strongest warrior from the Xygornot race...¡± A.N.T.¡¯s gaze trails off towards the holograms, where they raise one of their arms to rotate and zoom in on several of F.O.X.¡¯s defining features. ¡°Those names sound somewhat familiar.¡± John says while bringing his hand to rest underneath his chin. ¡°For additional context, I am also a Xygornot, as is most of our military. That said, other races often request the construction of such soldiers representing them in our military to assert their role in Xinos society.¡± ¡°Cool.¡± Says John, actually somewhat interested in the additional information he is learning about the sentient species. ¡°So, as you¡¯re probably well aware, my bond value is only 0.3%. A disappointing number, I know, but, I have a theory as to why F.O.X. is seemingly being enhanced so much by our connection. And, it relates to the data you¡¯ve already collected on them.¡± A.N.T.¡¯s antenna pivot towards John, priming themselves for whatever the gamer is about to say next. John, for all intensive purposes, has surpassed all of the Xinos perfect insights, making his own conclusion, something quite valuable to the curious machines. A grin once again grows across John¡¯s face, as the human starts sharing his thoughts with his captor. ¡°Bonds, cannot be simply quantified by numerical factors.¡± A.N.T. squints their monitors at the human, prompting John to continue. ¡°That said, my bond with F.O.X., is doing more than just a simple performance boost. Our connection, emotions seem to flow back and forth between us. It¡¯s unclear to me if this is an intended feature of your system, but when I connected with F.O.X., my body became flooded with feelings of hopelessness and self doubt.¡± John then takes a moment to pause, before sighing lightly at himself. ¡°F.O.X., isn¡¯t that much different from me. Well, how I used to be. The lack of confidence in one¡¯s self... I¡¯m all to familiar with how paralyzing that can feel. Despite us being completely different species, F.O.X.¡¯s feelings reminded me of my past. However, we¡¯re currently in a battle royale, and those are exactly the games I¡¯ve learned to believe in myself in. ... My emotions, are giving F.O.X. the ability to trust in their own skills. To trust in the techniques they¡¯ve honed for countless hours, to trust in their decision-making capabilities they are so proud of, and to trust in their own struggles as a warrior. A.N.T., once someone finds the strength to believe in themselves, in the skills they¡¯ve practiced time and time again, it suddenly becomes possible to achieve the things you once thought were impossible.¡± John pauses again, as the machine quietly processes the words he¡¯s saying with faintly pulsing lights and whirls. A silence grows between the two aliens, until eventually John stares directly into A.N.T.¡¯s monitors. ¡°I never used to be great at battle royales. And, I also never thought my skills would amount to anything. I would play them for fun, as a way to enjoy my spare time. Yet... I seemingly never found the courage to click on the ¡°joined ranked match¡± button, instead choosing to only play against computer-controlled opponents. However, it wasn¡¯t until a friend of mine gave me the courage to just try, to actually click that button, and join a ranked battle. It was then I learned that all of the skills I had been practicing aimlessly, were actually real. Sure, things didn¡¯t always work out, but, that one, single push, built just enough momentum, to start a boulder building my own self confidence. ... Just like my friend, I¡¯m that little nudge that F.O.X. needed, in order to realize the strength of their own capabilities.¡± A.N.T. continues staring at John for a while, their soldiers also stopping to listen and stare as well at the apparent truths the human was revealing about their capabilities. Eventually, after another lengthy pause, A.N.T. readjusts the hat across their head, before forming an awkward salute with its insect limbs. ¡°John.¡± The machine beeps in a short precise tone towards him before lowering their raised limb. ¡°Had we met under any other circumstances, I have a feeling we would have gotten along rather well. It¡¯s truly a pity war puts us at odds, but perhaps... This is the mysterious variable, ¡°luck¡± at play, just as our former emperor desired. ... I will pass along your insights to my colleagues observing the games from afar... And, as for your fate regarding F.O.X., I have decided, after listening to your words, to see them for myself on the honourable fields of battle. I will not be executing you to take advantage of the bond breaking penalties. If what you¡¯ve said is true, I will undoubtably notice their improvements during our battle to the death.¡± Then, turning away, A.N.T. slowly starts marching towards the main chambers of the prisoner¡¯s quarters, while gesturing towards some of the nearby ants. ¡°While I had initially intended for this to function as your last meal, I instead hope you will come to see it as a token of my appreciation from our conversation. My intelligence gathering, is absolute, and you will undoubtfully recognize it as such after seeing your most prized and favoured meal, served to you on a golden platter.¡± John cocks his head at the seemingly odd choice of words from the Xinos. His favourite meal? Obviously, John was always ready for a nice warm bowl of curry, but for even the machines to¡ª Then, while John was still contemplating how the advanced machines had somehow managed to figure out his favoured meal, a sharp burned aroma enters John¡¯s nostrils, while a small colony of ants carefully drifts around the nearby corner, diligently carrying a golden plate with something almost tar-like in the middle. After stabilizing the dish, the creatures then gently place the plate before John, making sure to equip him with an accompanying apron and set of cutlery. John gags slightly after seeing his supposed favoured ¡°delicacy¡± placed before him. His eyes wince, his throat aches, and his nose continues to throb at the repugnant, sulphury smell gracing his airways. Resting in the middle of the pristine golden dish, is a charred and blackened monstrosity that could hardly be called his preferred dish. Whatever it is, has clearly been burned beyond all sentient recognition, causing John¡¯s heart to sink at the thought that some curry had to go through such a traumatic experience. John then takes the nearby fork that was offered to him, and gently taps the poor excuse for ¡°food¡±, jumping slightly after feeling the hardness of the impact. This... Thing... Is possibly harder than diamonds, he figures, and, after a few more exploratory taps, John finally realizes what the Xinos thought was his favoured dish, earning him a well defeated sigh, as he softly utters the identity of the mysterious item calmly resting before him. ¡°A burned, fried egg.¡±