The high-pitched hum of the construction cycle finally faded, replaced by the steady, rhythmic thrum of the newly erected Power Plant. Standing on the ramp of the MCV, Tom watched the white-and-blue spire pulse with sapphire light. It was beautiful, but a cold thought struck him.
He retreated into the bridge and pulled up the resource manifest. "MCV AI, display material consumption logs for the Power Plant construction."
[Accessing Logs. 14.2 Metric Tons of Pre-Stored Nanite-Slurry and Carbon-Steel Alloys consumed. Internal Storage: 62% remaining.]
Tom stared at the scrolling numbers. It was exactly what he had suspected. "So, you didn't create that out of nothing. You used a stockpile."
[Correct,] the MCV AI responded. [Matter cannot be created from a void. Continuous construction requires a steady influx of raw molecular materials to replenish nanite reserves.]
The realization grounded him. This wasn't a game with infinite resources; it was a logistics struggle. He studied the geological scans of the area. There were two ways to replenish his hoard: traditional mining or Tiberium Refining.
Tom ran the data through his newly acquired expertise. Mining required massive infrastructure, deep digging, and specialized sensors for different ores. But Tiberium was a geological vacuum. It leached every chemical element from the soil—gold, iron, carbon, even trace gases—and condensed them into a dense, harvestable crystal lattice.
"Refining is the only way," Tom muttered. "Mining is too slow and energy-inefficient. The green stuff does the hard work of gathering the materials for me."
But as he looked at the dark, oppressive treeline of the forest, he knew he couldn't just build a factory and call it a day. He was a schoolboy alone in a world he didn't know. He had no army, no staff, and no one to watch his back. Survival was the top priority.
He sat at the drafting table, the blue light of the holographic interface reflecting in his eyes. He began to draw, his hands moving with a precision that felt alien as he implemented his own aesthetic into the functional blueprints.
He designed a Refinery with a sleek, white docking arm. Then, he moved to the essentials for a permanent stay: a Mansion for a secure home, a Farm with hydroponic bays so he wouldn't have to rely on unknown forest fruits, a Laboratory to study the physics of this world, and a Factory to automate his parts. Finally, he drew the Walls—high, reinforced ceramic-composite barriers designed to survive a siege.
"Survival first," he whispered, hitting the 'Submit' button on the console. "No point in a military base if I die of exposure or starvation."
The next few hours were a symphony of mechanical whirs and nanite hisses. The forest clearing was transformed into a walled sanctuary, a gleaming white-and-blue fortress of science. Once the perimeter was sealed and the automated gates hummed to life, Tom walked to the bridge of the MCV.
He carefully picked up the Tacitus. The golden box was unnervingly warm, its internal data-spheres shifting with a faint mechanical click. He carried it across the courtyard, past the humming power lines, and into his new mansion. Deep in the sub-basement, behind a foot-thick door of reinforced alloy, he placed the box in a Secure Vault.
"You're the most dangerous thing in this world," Tom said, watching the vault door hiss shut. "And until I have the expertise to understand you, you stay in the dark."
He walked back upstairs to his command center, looking at the monitors. He had a home, he had power, and he had walls. Now, he needed to feed the machine.
With the walls secure and the humming pulse of the Refinery echoing through the courtyard, Tom finally had a moment to breathe. He sat in his new command center within the mansion, the glow of the white-and-blue consoles reflecting in his tired eyes.
"System, run a full elemental scan of the surrounding geography," Tom commanded. "Compare the results to the standard Earth periodic table."
[Scanning...]
A holographic chart flickered to life. Rows of familiar elements—Hydrogen, Carbon, Iron—lit up in blue. Tom let out a sigh of relief. If the chemistry was the same, his technology would function perfectly. He was safe, or so he thought.
[Warning,] the MCV AI interrupted, its voice distinct and cold. [Initial analysis is incomplete. Scanners have detected trace signatures of matter that do not correspond to any known Earth element. These substances do not occupy a place on the periodic table, nor do their atomic structures allow for inclusion within current physical models.]
Tom froze. "What do you mean they won't fit?"
[They possess non-standard atomic lattices,] the AI replied. [Molecular behavior suggests properties that bypass traditional thermodynamic laws.]
The relief vanished instantly. Tom stood up and walked toward the Refinery's output terminal. His first Siphon-Harvester had just returned from the green field, and the first batch of refined Tiberium was being processed. He pulled up the breakdown of the extracted materials on his terminal.
"Iron, Gold, Copper, Silver, Titanium..." Tom read the list aloud. Then his finger stopped on a flickering red line at the bottom of the display. "And... this? MCV AI, what is this sixth metal?"
The metal in the display was strange. It possessed a density that shouldn't be possible for its volume, and it seemed to vibrate with a low-level energy that made the sensors glitch.
[Analysis: Unknown,] the MCV AI stated. [Material is not present in the pre-stored database.]
Tom frowned. "System, you're bound to this world's logic now. Give me a name. What am I looking at?"
[Information Restricted,] the System voice echoed in his mind. [The Host possesses the scientific tools to extract the material, but lacks the world-specific context to identify it. To understand the properties and the name of this substance, you must interact with the inhabitants of this world. Discovery through experience is a requirement for further expertise.]
"Inhabitants," Tom muttered, looking at the high, white walls of his mansion. The idea of leaving his fortress to talk to strangers—in a world where the wildlife tried to eat him—wasn't appealing.
He looked at the strange, shimmering ingot of the unknown metal sitting in the harvester's tray. If the system was being cryptic, it meant this stuff was important. He didn't know that the locals called it Meteorite Ore or that it was one of the most sought-after materials for crafting legendary blades. To him, it was just a dangerous anomaly.
"Fine," Tom said, his voice hardening. "If the system won't tell me, I'll put the investigation on hold. If there are people out there who want this metal, they're probably going to be a problem. MCV AI, shift all surplus power to the perimeter defenses. I want the security grid at one hundred percent."
[Orders Confirmed. Security protocols engaged.]
Tom watched the monitors as his automated Watchtowers—sleek, white pillars topped with rotating blue sensors—whirred into life along the wall's edge. He didn't know who lived in this world, but he was going to make sure that when he finally met them, it was on his terms. He walked back to the mansion's vault, ensuring the Tacitus was still secure. He was a king of an empty fortress, waiting for the world to knock on his door.