The warehouse was cold, silent, and empty—exactly how Kane wanted it.
Concrete walls. No windows. One flickering light hanging from the ceiling. On the floor sat dozens of sealed crates, neatly stacked and arranged with impossible precision. Metals, circuits, actuators, power cells—everything he needed.
Kane stood at the center of it all, hands clenched.
"So this is it," he muttered.
One week ago, he was broke, terrified, and questioning his sanity. Now he was standing inside the first step toward survival.
The AI spoke softly inside his mind.
"All required materials for Construction Droid Model-01 have arrived. Assembly can begin immediately."
Kane swallowed. "Begin upload."
Pain exploded behind his eyes.
Schematics poured into his brain—motor layouts, joint tolerances, structural stress limits, wiring paths, assembly sequences. His knees buckled and he dropped to one knee, teeth clenched as information rewrote the way he understood machines.
Steel no longer looked solid.
Circuits no longer looked complex.
They were obvious.
The pain vanished.
Kane stood slowly, breathing hard, then laughed under his breath. "I understand it… all of it."
"Knowledge integration successful," the AI replied. "Error margin: negligible."
He got to work.
Under the lone light, Kane assembled piece after piece. Arms first—hydraulic pistons wrapped in alloy plating. A reinforced torso frame capable of lifting several tons. Legs built for stability, not speed. No unnecessary features. No beauty.
This machine existed to build.
Hours passed. Sweat soaked his shirt. His hands moved with inhuman precision, guided by data and certainty rather than hesitation. Every bolt was tightened to the correct tolerance. Every wire seated perfectly.
Finally, the droid stood upright.
Two meters tall. Broad, angular, and silent. Its metal surface reflected the light in dull silver tones. No face—just a sensor cluster where eyes would be.
Kane stepped back.
"Power it on," he said.
The chest core pulsed once.
Then again.
The droid's systems activated with a low mechanical hum. Its head tilted slightly, servos adjusting.
"Construction Droid Model-01 online," the AI announced through the droid's external speaker. "Awaiting command."
Kane's breath caught.
It worked.
A machine born from his hands—something that didn't need rest, fear, or hesitation. Something that wouldn't betray him when the world burned.
"Diagnostic," Kane said.
The droid raised one arm smoothly, then the other. It stepped forward, concrete cracking faintly under its weight. No instability. No lag.
"Operational efficiency: 100%," the AI confirmed.
Kane smiled slowly.
"This changes everything."
With a single droid, he could dig. With two, he could build. With dozens… he could construct an underground factory. A base hidden from aliens, zombies, and humans alike.
The future no longer felt inevitable.
It felt buildable.
Kane looked at the silent machine and gave his first real command.
"Start excavation," he said. "We're building a future underground."
The droid turned and slammed its mechanical fist into the concrete.