Vescrutia: Legacy

Far to the south east of the plains of Daishonen The humid air of the Nhad swamplands was a thick, cloying blanket. It clung to the skin, tasting of stagnant water and decay, a stark contrast to the refined elegance of Edo, which lay far to the northwest. Few ventured into this morass willingly, humans and elves alike recoiling from the oppressive atmosphere and the strange, rustling life that thrived within. It was precisely this aversion that made it the perfect sanctuary for the Gamallow clan of the Shi family.

Beneath the fetid surface, a world of sharp angles and industrious purpose unfolded. Daioken, a fortress carved into the earth itself, thrummed with a silent energy. This was no place of dampness and decay, but a hive of activity. The Gamallow, true to their namesake, moved with the tireless efficiency of ants. Workbenches glowed with forge fires, intricate mechanisms clicked and whirred, and the air, though still humid, carried the metallic tang of industry and ingenuity.

Once, before the fall of Ains, the Mad Serpent Lord, the Gamallow were revered. Their name was synonymous with innovation, their workshops the birthplace of the shinobi world's most foundational tools. Every clan from the swift Kage to the stoic Oni owed a debt to the Gamallow ingenuity. But Ains's reign had ended in a cataclysmic purge, and the Gamallow, loyal to him, paid the price. Stripped of their renown, their knowledge plundered, many were forced into servitude, toiling in darkness, their craft evolving in the sunless depths – a grim irony for a clan named after the industrious ant.

Those who escaped, the Descendants as they now called themselves, nursed the embers of their lost legacy. Centuries blurred into relentless effort as they painstakingly pieced back together fragments of forgotten knowledge, driven by a stubborn resilience. Milestones were small, incremental victories in a vast, uphill battle. Yet, with each recovered blueprint, each re-mastered technique, they clawed their way back, slowly solidifying their position as one of Edo’s most formidable intellectual forces.

Their triumph was Ophidian. A metal whispered about in legends, said to be as unyielding as the mountains themselves. For eons, it defied manipulation, a tantalizing enigma. But the Gamallow, blending their esoteric ephemeral art; Nestu with their profound metallurgical understanding, finally cracked the code. They learned to bend Ophidian to their will, a feat considered impossible by all others.

This breakthrough ignited a new wave of whispers, now laced with awe and envy. Coupled with their mastery of Natech – a unique technology interwoven with intricate 'naten' mechanics - the Gamallow were poised to reclaim their former glory. Natech nanites were their safeguard, imbuing their creations with a genetic lock, ensuring only those of Shi blood could wield them, a shield against further theft. From augmented reality interfaces shimmering into existence to nanite swarms capable of untold feats, Natech was the future forged in Daioken’s depths.

And the architect of this resurgence, the man at the heart of it all, was…

“Uh sir, here are those progress reports you asked for.'

The voice cut through the hum of machinery. A young woman entered the workshop, oil smudged across her cheek and grime clinging to her fingers. Her black hair, initially tied back, now cascaded down her back, freed from its hasty ponytail. She stood behind a figure engrossed in holographic projections, a man whose short-cropped hair seemed to flicker with an inner scarlet flame. His shoulders moved rhythmically as he manipulated the displays, his back clad in burnt orange fabric, matching the custom-fitted hakama that completed his attire.

“Uh, sir?” she repeated, a hint of impatience creeping into her tone. He remained oblivious, his hands, faintly glowing with the telltale shimmer of naten reacting to his Natech infused hands, danced across the holographic blueprints.

Frustration finally winning, the woman rolled up the stack of reports and tapped him sharply on the head with them.

“Dammit, Eridin! Get the grease out of your ears!”

He winced, finally turning, rubbing his head. “Geeze, Anna, now what? If that had been a highly explosive agent, we'd all be Shi dust.”

“If the gods would only be so willing,” she muttered dryly.

“Oh dear Anna, you're about as cheery as a Xelphis-kissed dessert,” he retorted, a snide smile playing on his lips. This was Eridin Gamallow, third in command of the Shi Ten, and the driving force behind their technological renaissance. Ophidian manipulation, Natech mastery – it all flowed from his restless mind and skilled hands.

“Save it, will you?” Anna snapped. “Don’t you think you should be getting ready? The Shrouds said those emissaries were arriving soon.”

“Emissaries? What in Ains bl- oh… oh, of course.” He blinked, momentarily lost in his work, then his eyes widened in sudden realization. “I swear, what would I do without you, Anna?”

“Die… you’d die without me. Who else makes sure you eat around here?” she countered, tossing him a foil-wrapped sandwich.

“Are the samples ready?” he asked, tearing open the foil with practiced ease.
“You hate reading anything that isn’t a blueprint, don’t you?” Anna sighed. “For the sake of time, yes, the samples are fully operational. I’m sure they’ll be thoroughly impressed by your little show-and-tell. I still can’t believe we’re even doing this.” Her gaze swept across the workshop, taking in the murals depicting works in progress and completed marvels of Gamallow ingenuity. She understood the strategic necessity, but the prospect of revealing their hard-won secrets still grated.

Eridin understood her apprehension. “Anna… there is a great change coming to Edo. B’halia is a dangerous enemy; naturally, we must be prepared. We’ve managed to survive on luck and skill so far, but the Shi are caught in a precarious position – between a rock, a hard place, and a lake of acid at our feet, as you might say. We can’t go into this fight blind. It may be time we shared a secret, or… dared to trust. It’s exactly what the other families will least expect of us.”

Anna shifted her weight, the unease in her eyes reflecting his words. He was right, strategically sound, yet the ingrained secrecy of the Gamallow felt like a second skin.

“Yet none of that is the change I truly speak of…” Eridin’s voice took on a different timbre, a hint of something deeper.

“Hmm?” Anna’s brow furrowed, curious.

“Number Five… that boy is going to bring something wild to Edo, and we must be ready to support him.”

“That little psychopath? He’d sooner burn Edo to the ground than save it,”[/color] Anna scoffed, instantly dismissive.

“Meh, Shadow bite is a little...rough around the edges but he’s just a teenager, Anna. Sooner or later, we all grow out of the psycho-vigilante phase. Just call it intuition, or gut feeling… granted the last time we allied with a Mugen user it didn't end so well for us...but that kid…” Eridin’s voice trailed off, a strange certainty underlying his words.

A flicker of something akin to faith radiated from him, an anomaly that even Anna, with her cynical pragmatism, couldn't completely ignore. Eridin wasn’t one for unfounded certainties, especially not about others. It made her wonder, a sliver of doubt piercing her usual skepticism.

But just as quickly, Eridin’s usual ebullient energy returned, dispelling the moment of unusual gravity. “Well, enough of that!” he declared, grabbing a cloak emblazoned with the fiery ant symbol of the Gamallow clan. “Let’s go greet our new pals.” His eyes narrowed, a spark of anticipation and something sharper glinting within them, before he took a large bite out of his sandwich and strode towards the entrance of the hidden fortress, leaving Anna to follow in his wake, a mixture of apprehension and grudging curiosity churning within her. The shrouds had given the contacts the coordinates to which sector of the swamp the hideout was located in. They had prepared the needed precautions incase it turned out to be a dud. The arrival of the emissaries, whatever their purpose, was only the beginning. The true change, it seemed, was yet to come.

Far above the fetid expanse of the Nhad Swamplands, space twisted and warped with a sharp, electrical rupture. A ripple in the sky formed that shimmered for the briefest second before reality stitched itself back together.

Where there had been nothing, now hovered a ship unlike anything the skies of Edo had ever seen.

It had teleported — phase-shifted into this region of space in an instant. Angular, sleek, and gleaming with a smooth black sheen broken only by streaks of shifting silver. The vessel bore the unmistakable precision of Hyperian design– No rivets. No welds. No exhaust. Barely any sound slipped from the mechanical giant as it hovered over the dense canopy of the swamp, displacing air and atmosphere in subtle, calculated pulses.

A moment later, with a quiet hiss, a ramp extended from the belly of the ship. The bay doors parted with the mechanical whirr of magnetized panels, and out stepped the Emissaries of Hyperia.

Clad in pearl white exo-suits etched with subtle lines of pulsing blue, the figures moved with quiet, synchronous precision. Five in total — two at the flanks, two behind, and one taller figure at the center whose bearing radiated command. Each one wore a respirator mask, the glass of their visors flickering with data overlays and atmospheric readings in real-time. A single blue line ran across the eye-line of their masks, reacting in smooth pulses as they scanned their surroundings.

The air here was heavy. Saturated. Alive with microbial density. The swamp’s humidity and bio-signature were unlike anything in Hyperia’s clinical cities — unpredictable, uncontrolled. And so, protocol dictated caution.

"..Air integrity: 73% compatibility. No airborne contagions above tolerance. Humidity levels high, but non-lethal. Flora respiration stable.." one of the flanking officers reported through the respirator’s comms.

There was a pause.

Then a subtle hiss — each of the five Emissaries disengaged their respirators in synchronized fashion, folding the masks back into recessed compartments along the collar of their armor. Their faces were expressionless, marked by the genetic perfection common among Hyperia’s envoys — unblemished, symmetrical, and coldly beautiful.

“Acceptable,” the central figure murmured. His voice carried the accent of High Hyperian nobility — clipped, composed, devoid of warmth.

They stood silently at the base of the ramp, waiting.

They had arrived ahead of schedule, of course — to a location that by all known maps should have been uninhabited or outright hostile. Still, the coordinates provided by their Shi contacts had been exact. The Nhad swamplands pulsed with electromagnetic irregularities that would’ve shorted most lesser vessels.

Not Hyperia’s.

“Activating outer perimeter,” The central figure said, tapping a panel at their wrist.

Small, orb-like drones deployed from compartments at their hips, drifting outward in silence. They shimmered, cloaking themselves as they took up defensive positions.

And then they waited — statues of alloy and discipline. Considering what they knew about their hosts, The Gamellow's scanners had already discerned their arrival.

They did not waste time with idle conversation between each other, this was both a time sensitive and potentially hazardous meeting. Naturally they had done their research on the area and its inhabitants, but the Gamellow weren't exactly known for trading secrets. They were a reclusive people, only known by Hyperia's intelligence on account of their elite technological aptitude. They bore geniuses, innovators, all from the shadows and behind the scenes. But the world was shifting around them– The roar of B'halia's war drums had Kickstarted a change in civilizations around the world, and the Gamellow would not be left behind.

Hyperia was betting on this. Despite the xenophobic tendencies of realms like Edo and Hyperia, humankind would need to adopt a cohesive attitude if they wanted to survive. Neither of them would endure by sheltering themselves— but by banding together and building something not even the Empire could destroy.

Considering what they knew about their hosts, The Gamellow's scanners had already discerned their arrival.

They did not waste time with idle conversation between each other, this was both a time sensitive and potentially hazardous meeting. Naturally they had done their research on the area and its inhabitants, but the Gamellow weren't exactly known for trading secrets. They were a reclusive people, only known by Hyperia's intelligence on account of their elite technological aptitude. They bore geniuses, innovators, all from the shadows and behind the scenes. But the world was shifting around them– The roar of B'halia's war drums had Kickstarted a change in civilizations around the world, and the Gamellow would not be left behind.

Hyperia was betting on this. Despite the xenophobic tendencies of realms like Edo and Hyperia, humankind would need to adopt a cohesive attitude if they wanted to survive. Neither of them would endure by sheltering themselves— but by banding together and building something not even the Empire could destroy.

The moment the Hyperian ship materialized, the iguana-like observation unit perked up, its multifaceted eyes locking onto the anomaly. Algorithms whirred, crunching data on the spatial distortion, the ship’s energy signature, and everything else within its sensor range. The unit's scrutiny intensified when the ramp hissed open and a squad of figures in gleaming white armour emerged. Metrics and analytics streamed across Eridin’s vision, human, good. They moved with disciplined purpose, following a pre-determined path from the ship towards the designated rendezvous point, a clearing near the hidden entrance to the Antlion.

“Oh…teleportation…” Eridin murmured, leaning back in his chair, a low whistle escaping his lips. Interest sparked in his eyes, a familiar gleam whenever he encountered something novel, something…clever.

Anna, perched on a stool amidst a chaotic sprawl of wires and half-disassembled tech, glanced up, wiping grease from her brow with the back of her hand. “They’re pretty advanced.”

“Yes…it seems so,” Eridin echoed, his gaze glued to the augmented feed from the Iguana unit. The scans flooded his neural interface, and data points painted a comprehensive picture of the Hyperia delegation – heart rates, body temperature, even minute muscle twitches betraying nerves. But no concealed weapons, no bio-signatures that screamed ‘imposter.’ Just…humans, carrying the weight of their species’ future on their armoured shoulders.

“So, what do you wanna do, sir?” Anna prompted, twisting a small calibration dial with deft fingers.

Eridin’s eyes, reflecting the live feed of the approaching emissaries, flickered towards Anna, a flicker of amusement playing around his lips. “Make sure everything is…presentable. Show a little…Gamallow flair, wouldn't you say?” He gestured expansively around the workshop-laboratory, a space crammed with cutting-edge technology and the reassuring clutter of a craftsman’s haven. “I’m letting them in.”

He straightened, a subtle shift in posture that telegraphed command. “Xetta.”

Instantly, a shimmering holographic image coalesced beside him – Xetta, his ANNI program, his digital shadow. Artificial Neural Naten Intelligence. Her features were humanoid, shifted and flowed like liquid light of various colors, settling into a familiar, intelligent visage. Xetta was more than just an AI; she was an extension of Eridin’s mind, a sophisticated neural network woven into the fabric of his consciousness. A predecessor to Severus, the prototype he’d later entrusted to Jao, Xetta was a pioneer, a symbiotic intelligence that amplified Eridin’s intellect and granted him unparalleled access to the digital world.

“You called, Eridin,” Xetta’s voice, synthesized yet warm, resonated in the chamber.

“Patch me through to the Iguana unit,” he instructed, his brow furrowing slightly as he processed the latest scan data. Harmless, it seemed. Cautiously harmless. “And…Xetta?”

“Yes?”

“You are not…weary of these…people?” He knew Xetta. Her intricate algorithms were designed to assess risk and anticipate threats. He valued her intuition as much as her processing power.

Xetta’s form shimmered for a moment, a digital sigh. “Calculations indicate a non-zero probability of hostile intent. However, the…curiosity quotient outweighs the immediate threat assessment.”

Eridin chuckled, a dry, rasping sound. “Ah, my dear Xetta, you understand me so well. Curiosity, yes. It’s the very heart of science. And perhaps…the heart of survival.” He flashed a cracked smile, a genuine expression of his complex emotions.

“Clever, very well,” Xetta responded, a hint of amusement in her synthesized tone. “Initiating communications channel to the Iguana unit.” Her holographic hand extended, and a thin tether of hard light, almost invisible, flowed from her fingertips, connecting Eridin’s neural lace to the remote unit outside.

In the forest clearing, the mechanical iguana paused at the base of a giant, moss-covered tree. Its metallic scales shimmered in the dappled sunlight. Then, its mouth opened, revealing not teeth, but a complex speaker array, and Eridin’s voice, tinged with playful sarcasm, echoed through the trees.

“You fellur’s sure know how to make an entrance. We’ve already run a bio-scan to ensure you’re not a pack of skinwalkers – wouldn’t want to be rude, now would we? – so please…enter.” As the last syllable faded, the surrounding foliage shimmered and distorted, the cloaking mechanism around the Antlion’s entrance dissolving like morning mist. A dark, rectangular opening appeared in the earth, the mouth of a gently sloping tunnel leading into the unknown.

Another, briefer scan pulsed out from the Iguana as the Hyperians approached the entrance. Confirmation – still clean. The inner door at the tunnel's end hissed open, revealing the Antlion’s interior. The Hyperians stepped inside, blinking as their eyes adjusted to the subtly lit space. It was a revelation. A sprawling facility, a labyrinth of workshops and laboratories carved into the earth, humming with controlled energy. Yet, amidst the gleaming chrome and glowing interfaces, the clang of hammers on metal and the hiss of forges filled the air. Gamallow shinobi, small, quick-limbed figures, moved with purposeful energy, attending to glowing ingots, manipulating complex machinery, their movements a blend of practiced precision and almost frantic haste. As Eridin often boasted, it was a metallurgical marvel, a seamless fusion of cutting-edge technology and ancient artisanry.

Eridin stood just beyond the inner doorway, arms outstretched in a welcoming gesture, a genuine, if slightly mischievous, grin on his face. “Hyperia,” he announced, his voice echoing slightly in the cavernous space. “The Gamallow welcomes you to the Antlion. The pun is intended, hehe.” He inclined his head slightly, the gesture a curious mix of formality and playful informality, a perfect embodiment of the enigmatic people he represented. “Please, come in. We have much to discuss.”

“We appreciate your hospitality, Eridin of the Gamallow,” the central envoy said, voice calm but resonant, modulated with the precision of a practiced diplomat.

Behind him, one of the other Hyperians allowed a soft exhale to slip past his lips—amused, maybe impressed. But the others remained statuesque, unmoving, their expressions unreadable. They flanked their leader in a diamond formation, each one a quiet monument of discipline.

“Impressive,” the envoy continued, stepping forward with measured poise. His eyes wandered, briefly, across the chamber—the exposed veins of circuitry running like roots through the walls, the soft forge-light glinting off polished alloys, the eerie harmony between chaos and precision perpetuated by Shinobi. “Living architecture, integrated with function… form married to spirit.”

He paused, then added with genuine appreciation:
“You may call me Dr. K’ion Bhu, Ambassador of Hyperia. And I will say—I truly admire what I've heard and what I see.”

With that, he extended a hand—not just the gesture of peace, but a statement of parity. The handshake in Hyperian custom was sacred: a vow that, for the moment, that words needn't complicate.

"But make no mitskate."

His voice lowered then, a shift not in volume but in weight that added subtle tension to the air.

“We have not come merely to exalt your craft.” K’ion’s lips curled into a faint, diplomatic smile—courteous, but not soft.

“Although, i imaigine that may be a bit difficult for me, given your talents. Shall we discuss?”

“Although, i imaigine that may be a bit difficult for me, given your talents. Shall we discuss?”

“Let’s,” Eridan retorted, the single word sharp and decisive, yet maintaining the veneer of affability. He gestured for them to follow. The corridor opened into a bustling, high-tech workshop, sleek metal surfaces interspersed with glowing screens and humming machinery. Anna, his ever-efficient assistant, walked up from behind a workbench, her sharp eyes raking over the newcomers, lingering for an extra beat on Dr. Bhu before snapping back to Eridan. She handed him a datapad, its screen displaying complex schematics.

“Hmm… yes… everything seems to be on track,” Eridan murmured, his gaze flicking over the information. “Make sure to run a final diagnostic on all functions before closing it out.”

“As you wish,” Anna replied, her voice curt and professional. As she turned back to her work, Eridan added, his voice softening slightly, “Don’t judge Anna too harshly, as you know we are not used to guests, especially those who scour the underworld searching for us.” His tone had a playful lilt, but the underlying seriousness was unmistakable. They knew who Dr. Bhu was, and they understood the implications of his unearthing their hidden sanctuary.

He led them through the workshop, past busy technicians and the low thrum of arcane energies being channeled through futuristic apparatus, until they reached a starkly contrasting lounge. The cold metal gave way to plush, deep-cushioned couches and vibrant, intricately patterned pillows scattered across low platforms. A polished black bar stood against one wall, stocked with a bewildering array of bottles and glassware. It was an oasis of comfort amidst the technological heart of their operation.

Eridan settled onto a velvet chaise lounge, crossing one leg casually over the other. His gaze, now entirely focused, rested on Dr. K’ion Bhu. “So, Doctor, what can we do for you?” The easy charm was gone, replaced by a keen, assessing intelligence. The game of pleasantries was over; it was time for business.

Dr. K’ion Bhu remained standing, gaze trailing across the richly adorned lounge with the quiet scrutiny of a man who had been in many war rooms dressed as parlors. He did not sit immediately — Hyperian protocol dictated that true conversation began only after intention had been set. Behind him, the Envoys held their formation, silent and still as obsidian pillars, save for one who idly traced a gloved finger across the edge of a decanter before stepping back into position.

When Dr. Bhu finally spoke, it was with the weight of someone offering not demand, but opportunity.

“This sanctum you've constructed—its marriage of beauty, technology, and innovation—speaks of a people who know how to mold mystery into mastery. And it is that brilliance which compelled us here today.”

He moved at last, lowering himself not into the offered lounge chairs, but to a grounded cushion opposite of Eridin. “We come with an offer. Not for trade. Not for patronage. For alliance.”

He nodded faintly toward his peers, and they too took their seats.

“Hyperia is on the cusp of something extraordinary. A synthesis of will, technology, and arcana. The single most powerful vestige of human ingenuity.. One unlike anything the world had ever seen.”

He let that linger for a moment, before he took a breath and continued.

“But there remains a missing element—elusive as all hell. One that could consecrate this dream into a reality.”

He paused.

“Ophidian.” He said casually, allowing the implications to settle on their hosts. From their reports, Ophidian was a nigh impervious metal that, when heated, becomes aqueous. However, due to its unique composition and melting point, the ore itself was nearly impossible to manipulate. None but the Shi, the founders of the unique material, were able to discern its secrets and shape its potential into utility.

Bhu’s tone shifted, earnest and edged with solemnity.

“We seek a partnership. A true convergence between our worlds.”

At his signal, one of the Envoys stepped forward and produced a sealed scroll of blueprints—etched in encrypted glyphs, sealed in wax stamped with the sigil of Hyperia's Monarch. He placed it gently on the floor between them.

“And in return,” Bhu said, eyes now fixed on Eridin, “we offer a weapon. One only we can build. A weapon tailored to conquer the coming storms. One to unearth you from the swamps of secrecy… and make your name echo beyond the skies of Edo.”

Bhu shared a glance with his peers, “We are not a loquacious people. There are no tricks or angles to our words other than the will to survive.” He folded his hands on the table, calm and composed. “My words are that of our Monarch's. And, in efforts to save time, we wish to shape the future alongside you.”

"The will to survive eh?"

Was the only word that drifted from his lips as the doctor finished his the start of his proposal. Eridan had to admit this was...a most unexpected offer. He couldn't have imagined Hyperia to be ill-informed as to the positionality of the Shi in Edo's current hierarchy. The slanderous implications were that they were nothing more than murderous upstarts. And yet, the doctor, and by extension, the Monarch of Hyperia, sought not only the party but an alliance.

The will to survive, there was a specific understanding that dug into Eridan after hearing the doctor speak those words. For example, have the SHi been barely surviving, clawing back piece by piece their place in Edo as more than fodder for the other great families. Hope...it was a foolish notion to them; in Edo only power determined prospect, and yet when he listened to Bhu's proposal, it wasn't just a vie for power that fueled him...it was growth, evolution, the vision of a future from being the hunted to becoming an apex. That...was the single most appealing thing he had heard in ages.

Eridan let his serpentine gaze, unnervingly still, bore into Dr. Bhu. He felt the familiar tremor of his Gamallow blood, a coldness that wasn’t fear, but calculation. Hyperia’s ignorance must be profound, or their desperation… colossal. Did they not understand the precarious thread the Shi walked? An open alliance would expose them, unravel generations of careful shadow weaving.

"You seek an alliance," Eridan stated, the words less a question and more a pronouncement, "with the Shi. A clan known for… discretion. For existing in the spaces between."

He let the implication hang in the air. Discretion, spaces between… these were euphemisms for survival. Scratching a living from the edges of the Edo empire, playing factions against each other, trading in secrets and shadows – this was the Shi’s reality. They were survivors, yes, but barely. Clawing their way back from the brink after the purges, piecing themselves together bit by painstaking bit. Hope was a luxury they couldn't afford, not openly. Power was the only currency in Edo, and the Shi had very little of it, at least in the eyes of the other Great Families.

Eridan felt a prickle of something akin to… interest. Not hope, not yet. But the seed of a possibility. He listened as Dr. Bhu elaborated, outlining Hyperia’s vision – not just an alliance for mutual benefit, but a partnership based on shared ambition. They spoke of technological advancements, of reshaping the power dynamics of Edo, of stepping out of the shadows and into… something new. It wasn't just about survival; it was about growth. Evolution. Becoming more than hunted prey.

The audacity of it was breathtaking. And terrifying.

His men remained silent, their tension a palpable hum in the air. They knew the risks. Exposure. Annihilation. The other Great Families wouldn't take kindly to the Shi, the supposed vermin, rising in power, especially not in league with outsiders like Hyperia. But then again, who gave a fuck about them?

Eridan felt a flicker of his own unease. He’d cultivated this image of cold command, this impassive exterior, but beneath it… doubt gnawed. He was playing a dangerous game, balancing ambition with the very real threat of destruction.

"They call us soul-sucking serpents, you know…" He repeated the slur, a glint, sharp and dangerous, momentarily flashing in his normally placid eyes. It was a test, a probe. He watched Dr. Bhu and his entourage, unflinching, unmoved. Marble statues. Were they truly so confident? Or simply blind to the viper they were inviting into their nest?

Then, Xetta’s voice, a cool, silken whisper, laced through his thoughts.

"You are hesitant, your pseudo bravado indicates fear."

He almost flinched, a minute twitch in his jaw the only outward sign. Sometimes he forgot she was there, woven into the very fabric of his mind.

"Sometimes I forget you're in here, Xetta shit…" he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else.

"I am as you've created me to be, Eridan… as will this next invention… "Her voice held a subtle emphasis on 'invention', a gentle nudge towards the blueprints on the table.

"Yeah…" he breathed, his gaze drifting back to the technical drawings.

"You worry, intimidated by how bright the sun may be, after skulking in the shadows for so long."
She saw him too clearly, this echo of his own mind. She saw the fear he tried to bury beneath layers of Gamallow composure.

"We… we've bled for a day like this, for a chance like this. If I screw this up, we…" The words trailed off, the weight of responsibility pressing down.

Xetta: You said earlier that curiosity is the heart of science… I would like to disagree.

He blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in tone. "Xetta?"

"When I was but a fledgling mass of data and hypothesis, a mastermind once said to me that many think success dictates a scientist's worth. But the scientist isn’t measured by his number of successes…"

He finished the thought for her, the words echoing from a dimly remembered lesson of his own making. "But by how many times he failed and tried again… data, like a blade, requires tenacity… and patience."

" I dare say, Eridan, it is time for the Gamallow, for the Shi as a whole, to show the world that they are everything they think we are… and then some."

A chuckle rumbled in his chest, a genuine sound breaking through the tension. "Heh… how long have you been holding that one in the chamber?"

"It's been in my archives for some time now." He could almost hear a dry, digital amusement in her tone.

"I think you're right… Xetta…" He straightened, the almost imperceptible tremor in his hands fading. He looked at Dr. Bhu, at the blueprints, at the chance, the terrifying, exhilarating chance, laid out before him. The shadows had been their refuge, but they could also be their prison.

He met Dr. Bhu’s unwavering gaze. "Doctor," Eridan said, his voice now firm, resonating with a newfound resolve. "Tell me more about this… weapon." A slow smile, predatory and sharp, began to curve his lips. The will to survive? Yes. But perhaps, it was time for something more than just survival. Perhaps, it was time to thrive.

Dr. K’ion Bhu’s smile returned—not wide, not boastful, but knowing. He leaned forward, fingers steepled, his voice lowering to a register barely above a whisper. The kind of tone that carried secrets and shook foundations.

“A weapon in form, yes. But in truth, it is a fulcrum. One that can bend the axis of power across Vescrutia.”

With a subtle tap along the wrist of his coat, a soft chime emitted from the plate embedded in his chest. Light bloomed and coalescing into a rotating projection above them. The air shimmered with ethereal blue as towering humanoid constructs emerged. Sleek, angular, and impossibly elegant, their frames pulsed with an eerie symmetry—arcane latticework interwoven with stark, industrial design.

Their silhouettes flickered with potential energy and amorphous capabilities—shape-shifting, regenerating.

“Codename: A.I.O.N.S.; Artificially Integrated Omnipotent Nodal Sentienls.” he said, each syllable crisp and exacting. “Each unit designed to harmonize Naten, arcana, and mechanical consciousness into a singular, sovereign entity. Not mindless drones. Not programmable foot soldiers. But autonomous extensions of our collective will—loyal to their prime directive. Calculating. Implacable. Tireless. Adaptive.”

He paused, watching Eridin with a stillness that spoke of absolute conviction. Then his tone shifted—quieter now, almost reverent. “However, none of it is possible without Ophidian. It remains one of the only known elements able to bind Naten to synthetic cognition. Without it, the Sentinels remain unstable—half-born. Brilliant prototypes.”

He said, pressing another button, causing the holographic display to shut off. “We have nearly perfected the framework. But the blood of the future runs through the Gamellow, and we have no intention to take it by force. However..”

He said, allowing a pause before he continued.

“The B'halian Empire has already begun their global campaign. And should they succeed at the imperialization of Vescrutia, I fear there will be no room in this world for human ambition to thrive.”

Dr. Bhu sat back—though not without effort, adjusting awkwardly among the cushions with a diplomatic smile. He struggled briefly, an almost comical gesture that did little to soften the edge in his voice when he spoke again.

He leaned forward slightly, and for the first time, there was a flicker—subtle, human—beneath the diplomat’s skin.

“Schematics and blueprints are illustrated on the parchment before you, but before we speak further.. and before I can allow you to read them.” he said, his tone earnest, almost solemn, “I must ask you plainly: can you see a future with Hyperia? Not forged in desperation, but by design? Not in fear—but in shared ambition?”

Eridan felt a jolt, a thrill that went deeper than professional curiosity. "Omnipotent?" The word rolled around his tongue, testing its flavour.

Yet he could tell that the doctor–Bhu, and the others, silent and observing in the background, were not posturing. There was a certainty in their bearing, a quiet confidence that transcended mere salesmanship. Eridan’s eyes were lit with the glow of Bhu’s projection of the sentinels. He smirked, a smirk that evolved into a giggling sneer of pure intellectual delight. They were...simply beautiful. In his mind, circuits sparked, theories bloomed. He was already hypothesizing hundreds of applications with potent functions, the thirst to know the secrets contained in the blueprint before it fizzled over. The sheer potential, the elegance of the design, the power inherent in their structure… it was intoxicating.

But then, the Doctor spoke again, and this time the change in his tone grasped Eridan’s full attention, pulling him abruptly from his theoretical ravings.

“Schematics and blueprints are illustrated on the parchment before you, but before we speak further.. and before I can allow you to read them.” he said, his tone earnest, almost solemn, “I must ask you plainly: can you see a future with Hyperia? Not forged in desperation, but by design? Not in fear—but in shared ambition?”

Dr. Bhu’s words carried a waft of sincerity, a note that belied the truth of their plight and the ordinance of their call. Hyperia was cornered, searching for an ally with the unique capabilities of the Gamallow clan. Yet Bhu wasn't framing this as a mutual rescue from impending doom but as a deliberate, joint venture towards a future built by choice.

Eridan felt the weight of the question settle, heavy and profound. He thought of the past: Ophidian, the miraculous metal. Over the last twenty years, it has contributed to a rapid development in the Shi's rebellion. From the metal's unique properties, they had created an entirely new martial art, fluid and deadly. Shadow Bite, his peer, had even created an entirely new type of Ephemeral Art centered around it. Shadow Bite's understanding of Ophidian rivalled only Eridan's own.

He thought of the timing. It would have been mere chance that after the Serpent Heir had come of age, the wild card fated to tip the scales, now this alliance presented itself – an opportunity that could very well flip the script entirely on their long-standing struggles. He never considered the prospect of divine intervention, and as a man of science, he rarely adhered to the prospect of destiny.... Still, even he could not ignore the almost celestial timing of it all. What was blossoming in Eridan’s chest, the feelings like a hill of ants in his stomach, was not desperation... it... it was resolve.

Eridan looked away from the shimmering projection towards the rolled parchments on the table – the physical copies of the blueprints. His gaze lingered there momentarily, the initial scientific greed replaced by something colder, more challenging. Recognition flickered in his eyes, not of the specific designs, but of the cost such power often demanded.

“There was a time...Doctor,” Eridan began, his voice quieter now, carrying the echoes of history. “When the Shi were equal in measure and greater in power than the Owaki and Yaarou. The most infamous and respected of the three great chinobi families. Yet...because of one man’s...inspiration to see his family ascend... everything we had was burned, soot and dust are our only inheritance. And slavery or eternal penitence became our fate.”

Eridan’s eyes lingered from the Doctor to the blueprints. This time, they were glinting—a chilling understanding of ambition's price.

“Though many of the Shi detest and loathe Ains...” he continued, the name a shard of glass on his tongue. “I, as a man of the future, could sympathize with his ambitions. Though his methods were...crude, at the core I believe Ains wasn’t just a mad lord seeking power for power’s sake.... I believe he desired a future for his family, one where they could no longer be prey for anyone and become Apex with no food chain above them. If that’s labels you as a madman, then I’ve been guilty of such a mindset my entire life. I wonder... if he felt the way I do right now... the fate of his clan, his family in his hands.”

His gaze sharpened, fixing back on Bhu, the scientific curiosity burning alongside a fierce ancestral pride and a raw, protective drive.

“I have watched as my family grovel at the feet of those who once shuddered at the mention of their names. Their eyes plucked from their skulls from fear of the terror their glare once created. Yet, we cannot continue to chase after the glory of what was, for even then that infamy was bloodlust. What the Shi are... what the Gamallow invent for.... is family, the protection and freedom of our bloodline. Our battles will remain even when this war with B’halia is over.”

The internal struggles of the Shi shinobi for power and freedom from the oppressive grip of the Owaki and Yaarou could not be overlooked. Their rebellion wasn't just about B'halia. Yet this prospect, this alliance with Hyperia and the power these sentinels represented, appeared to be a way to let two birds fly at the same time. Check B’halia, decimate the target of the rebellion – the forces that kept his clan subjugated.

Eridan leaned forward, mirroring Bhu's earlier gesture. The casual sneer was gone, replaced by an intense, almost fearsome focus. His voice dropped slightly, but the guttural resolve behind it filled the room.

“We are done living in fear, done fighting for scraps. We are gonna show Edo, B’halia and the world over what happens when you fuck with my family...”

His tone was beaming with an almost palpable conviction.

“Dr. Bhu....”

Eridan’s eye was bright with determination, a fire that had not bloomed in his heart with such ferocity since cracking Ophidian’s proverbial code nearly decades ago, since seeing the true potential of the metal twist and flow under his touch.

“Let us work towards a future where our families can smile...not behind walls or under swamps. But out loud in the open.”

He finished, extending a hand across the low table, beckoning Bhu to meet it. It was more than a handshake; it was a solemn pledge, a forging of ambition and necessity into a single, formidable weapon. The projection of the sentinels shimmered behind them, silent witnesses to the birth of an alliance that promised to reshape the world.