Isin stood tall on the platform, overlooking the sea of faces gathered to celebrate the opening of Helmforað's first district. It was not yet a city, only the fragile outline of a dream. It was stone and metal laid against the cavern walls, a promise of what would rise in the days to come. It was small now, yes, but it was enough. For the first time, his people would not have to sleep shoulder-to-shoulder in the crowded halls of the upper facility. This was the start of something new. Something grand.
"This will be our Haven. The beginning of our people, the dawn of a free humanity. A place where our children and their children—can grow, build, and thrive. With this festival, with the opening of Helmforað's first district, we will also take a moment to honor those we lost. Those who are no longer among us. Those stolen too soon. Those who rest, yet still watch over us.
"The Angels never wanted us to know our ancestors. They sought to erase their names, their sacrifices, their very memory. They gave them numbers not identity, they hollowed out families as easily as they bled hearts. But I tell you now, they are our heroes. They gave their lives so we could walk and one day run forward. Speak their names aloud, and let this city, let our city—be blessed by their memory. Let the Angels hear us and know: we will not be caged. We will not be silenced. We will not forget. The names carved into Helmforað will not be those of Divines, Immortals, or Angels. They will be human names. Our fathers, our mothers, our children! Our protectors! Our legacy!"
The crowd answered him with a roar of names, voices trembling with tears and ringing with defiance. Some cried openly, others shouted with unyielding strength. Isin stood straighter, listening as the roll of humanity surged like a tide through the cavern. His heart swelled, his throat burned, and though his eyes stung he did not weep. He only remembered. Children he had never met. Mothers and fathers who never knew freedom. Brothers and sisters torn away. He breathed in each name, a vow unspoken: none would be forgotten, not while he lived.
Once, he had been a slave. Then, a leader. A savior. Now? Something more. And this was only the first step.
His gaze lifted to the cavern's edge, where the first humble buildings of Helmforað clung like seeds to stone. One day, they would flourish into a city. One day, his people would no longer live in fear. His eyes found his family in the crowd—Eliska, standing proud with Mihr at her side, and Edita resting safely in her arms. That was his reason now. His anchor. His future.
As the last names faded, Isin cleared his throat, steadying himself. He closed his speech with quiet strength, then yielded the platform to the next speaker amid the crowd's thunderous cheers. When he stepped down, it was to take his place among the newly elected ministers of humanity's fledgling government.
***
Isin walked among the crowd with his family in tow. Edita nuzzled in his arms the little three year old girl had been irritable all morning because they had been up and walking around so early. Mihr on the other hand had Eliska watchin g her closely. She wanted to run around and explore on her own and it was surprising how fast her little legs let her move.
Isin laughed as they enter the square. A few shops would be opening soon; they would be the first form of commerce approved by the council. There was specialty restaurants that would offer dishes not available in the normal fabricators, tool repair shop, android repair shop and a bar.
"There they are." Martin said as he walked up from the entrance of the final building in the square. "We were waiting for you buddy."
"Sorry, man." Isin said.
"Uncle Marty!" Edita said as she brightened.
The small girl nearly jumped from Isin's arms. Martin took the girl and spun her around then placed her on one shoulder. Mihr immediately ran up, bouncing on her toes.
"Me too!" she demanded.
He obliged and put her on the other shoulder.
"Great, you're keeping them for the day." Eliska said.
"After the opening, I can go on Uncle duty." Martin said.
The last building was a special one, it was Martin's legacy. A school to teach magecraft much like his father had so many years prior. He was one of the few magecrafters still alive and now that legacy would continue to the next generation. Isin hadn't seen Martin so happy in years. A real smile across the face of his oldest friend.
"We are going to hold you to that." Isin said.
"Yeah, I know. But I could never say no to my favorite nieces." Martin said as led them inside.
The tour was brief. The building was small, just enough space for a handful of students now, though it would expand as their numbers grew. The girls ran from room to room, their laughter echoing off polished walls until they finally collapsed in a pile of giggles and exhaustion.
Martin and Isin found themselves alone in the main hall, faux sunlight filtering through tall windows. Martin leaned against a desk, lowering his voice.
"So," he said quietly, "how are things really going?" His tone carried the weight of unspoken concern. "I've heard rumors and not the good kind. If there's something I can do, you know I will."
Isin sank into a nearby chair, running a hand through his hair. The sigh that followed seemed to carry months of strain.
"This is supposed to be your day, Martin," he said. "Not another round of me complaining about the council."
"Don't give me that. You are the reason any of us are alive right now." Martin said. "I am not going to stand around while they give you a hard time. They are ingrates."
"The only other option," Isin said, voice low and weary, "would have been to rule like the Angels did. To force obedience." He shook his head. "No. People deserve the right to choose who leads them… even if they choose wrong."
"But." Martin said.
"Don't worry, I am not going to let them kick me out without a fight. I still have plenty of support from the people, which is what some of them are afraid of. If José thinks he can turn the rest of the council against me he has another thing coming."
He glanced around the new hall—at the clean stone, the faint hum of the mana lights, the promise of learning and future in every corner. His expression softened.
"Congratulations, by the way," he said. "Petr would be proud."
Martin smiled, his voice quiet but full of warmth. "He would," he said. "He really would."
***
The lab was alive with noise. Conversations overlapped, the clatter of datapads and the hiss of cooling systems blending into a constant hum. Engineers argued in sharp bursts, their voices echoing off steel walls, the tension palpable.
Laxy sat cross-legged on her fabricator, perfectly still. The gynoid only spoke when directly addressed, her synthetic eyes flicking occasionally toward the engineers as though she were quietly cataloguing every word.
Isin stood at the center of it all. He was not the subject of the debate, but its axis. All attention was drawn to the silent giant dominating the lab: the R-02 Ophanim, their single greatest military asset.
The golden machine stood motionless, light glinting off its immaculate frame. Around it, scanners and diagnostic rigs blinked uselessly, their readings inconclusive. For five years the engineers had prodded and scanned and theorized, but the R-series was a fortress of Angelic design. Insights into the machine had been negligible at best though they did glean small insights.
"Councilman Isin," Jimmu, the head scientist, spoke over the din. "We have to decide what to do with the R-02. It's the only R-series we have. Unless you authorize a full disassembly, I doubt we'll learn anything more."
Isin's eyes flicked to the golden colossus. "If we take it apart, we lose the greatest weapon we possess. Without absolute certainty we can rebuild it, I cannot approve that. You know this, Jimmu."
Jimmu's expression hardened. "Some risks are necessary. Without an R-series of our own, we're exposed. The S-series isn't even comparable. This machine holds secrets that could change everything. If we can't replicate Angelic technology, we'll never withstand an invasion."
Isin turned. "Laxy. Based on our observations, what are the chances of recreating the R-series with our current technology?"
"Currently, there is a high risk of catastrophic failure if we attempt to disassemble R-02." The gynoid said.
The chance of preserving internal structures for cataloging or study is negligible. The chance of successfully reconstructing R-02 after destructive disassembly is near zero. Additionally, it is highly probable that R-02 contains failsafes designed to destroy internal components if tampered with, to prevent reverse-engineering."
"That gynoid has said that before," Jimmu snapped, jabbing a finger at her. "Don't forget it's not one of us! It was made by the Angels. It could be lying. We already know it withholds information."
Isin's gaze moved to Laxy. The gynoid could hide things from the others, yes, but not from him.
He floated the Angel Core from his palm to her, sending a pulse of aether through her head. Laxy shuddered. For an instant her human-like projection flickered, revealing the stark machinery beneath. Then she dropped to her knees as dozens of luminous screens flared into existence around her, lines of alien code cascading down each one.
"What is this?" Jimmu breathed.
"This," Isin said quietly, "is how she sees the world. At least partly. It's the source code for Laxy, Ivoi, and Doni. These three are mine. They will never lie… to me."
Jimmu's eyes widened as he scanned the streams of data. The other scientists surged forward, scribbling notes, snapping images, their excitement overtaking their suspicion. Isin let them work for a few moments before clearing his throat.
"This changes a lot," Jimmu admitted at last, looking up from his notes. "But it doesn't change the question. What do we do with the R-02?"
"It will be our last line of defense," Isin said. "We'll disguise it, put it in charge of the power plant defences. If Nuriel ever comes here, we cannot risk her detonating it, not until we're far enough away to escape. Every other system can be compromised, but a core detonation would be catastrophic."
"Why disguise it?" Jimmu asked.
"We brought everyone we could to Helmforað," Isin said. "There was no time for full vetting except for people with chips. Even so, I'm not naive enough to think everyone is loyal just because they aren't being controlled directly. Or that some won't bow to the Angels if offered survival over freedom. Should the worst happen, whether from outside or within, we need something to protect us."
"But so many people already know about the R-02," another scientist said. "It isn't a secret."
"Then we tell them you convinced me," Isin replied, his eyes hard. "We disassembled the R-02 and it self-destructed, taking its secrets with it. When the S-series titan class is complete, we'll also build a heavily modified Guardian. No matter what happens, it will be our lifeline… if the time comes."
"But if we do this, someone will have to take the blame for losing the R-02," another muttered. "Whoever it is will be ridiculed for destroying our greatest asset."
Isin's gaze swept across them. "It's my decision. It will be my—"
"No." Jimmu's voice cut across the room. "Don't you dare. The other councilmen are already trying to weaken your position. If you give them this, they'll use it to destroy you. I'll take the fall. I'll step down from R&D and see this plan through."
Grumbles rose from the scientists, but Jimmu's resolve was iron. Isin stepped forward and extended his hand. Jimmu clasped it firmly.
"This is not to be spoken of to anyone," Isin said, his tone like steel. "Laxy, once the shell over the R-02 is complete, you will modify every record. It will show that the R-02 was destroyed and the Guardian is a modified unit. All other data is to be deleted."
"Of course, Master Isin," Laxy said softly.