The sun rose weakly over Nondicci's mangled skyline, its light strained through layers of soot and lingering haze. The city lay quiet but not still—there was movement now. Coordinated. Determined.
At the center of it all stood Liam.
In the wide clearing just past Southbank's fractured edge, engines roared to life. Towering machines—half war-engine, half construction unit—crawled over rubble with methodical purpose. They were Liam's designs: armored titans with adaptive limbs, magnetic clamps, and sensor-driven claws, crafted for strength, resilience, and precision. His engineering spoke in steel and motion.
Surrounding him, members of the Builder's Guild moved like a trained battalion. Weathered engineers, geomancers, and forgewrights relayed updates through comms crackling with static and urgency.
"West strut girders are failing," came one report.
"I'll reroute Unit Three," Liam responded. "Shift the mana siphon—too much pull and the foundation will shear."
AISAR's voice came through his neural interface, clear and unflinching."Lower corridor integrity is stabilizing. Southern access route is now traversable. Civilian signatures detected beneath sub-level three. Recommend initiating recovery sequence."
Liam nodded and issued the order.
He hadn't slept—not in the human sense. His synthetic frame didn't need rest, just energy. But still, his voice carried the weight of exhaustion—not physical, but emotional. Each wall they cleared revealed not just ruins, but memories. Loss.
Still, he moved forward.These machines weren't just for reconstruction. They were a message. The city might be broken, but it wasn't finished—not while there were hands left to rebuild it.
And Liam?
Liam wasn't just rebuilding.
He was preparing.
Amid the grind of metal and crunch of shifting debris, Liam stood beside Garron Kest—the grizzled, broad-shouldered head of the Builder's Guild. Dust hung in the air, thick with ash and scorched mana, but the chaos moved under control.
"Well, I'll be damned," Garron muttered, arms folded. "We actually survived. Didn't think I'd see the other side of this disaster."
Liam gave a faint smile as one of his haulers trundled past, carrying a collapsed spire like a trophy.
"I figured you'd make it," he said. "You're too stubborn to die."
Garron chuckled, then glanced sideways, eyes narrowing slightly. He took in the smooth synthskin at Liam's jaw, the silent hum beneath his coat.
"You're not exactly the same man I remember. When were you planning on telling me you turned into a walking alloy vault?"
Liam smirked. "After the quake, there wasn't much of the old body left to work with. I rebuilt what I needed to survive."
Garron gave a long, impressed whistle. "So you're telling me you turned yourself into one of your own machines? No wonder the rubble's running scared."
Then he thumped a calloused hand against his chest. "Any chance I can get one of those upgrades? These knees are held together by curses and coffee."
Liam's grin deepened. "Custom build. Besides, your knees would scream betrayal if I swapped 'em for ferrite."
Garron laughed—a hoarse, genuine sound. "Figures. All these years rebuilding half the damn city, and the only thing I can't fix is myself."
They stood quietly for a moment, the kind of silence only long friendship could make comfortable, broken only by a loader slamming down a slab of concrete nearby.
Liam's gaze followed a drone sorting debris into glowing color-coded stacks. "Still, the two of us—somehow still standing. That has to mean something."
"It means we've got work to do," Garron replied, voice lower now. "The city's on its knees, but she hasn't fallen."
"We're not just clearing rubble anymore," Liam said. "We're rebuilding from the bones up. Smarter, stronger. Adaptive structures, mana-insulated frameworks, load-bearing lattices that can withstand another collapse—or worse."
Garron raised an eyebrow. "Out of this mess?"
Liam nodded toward a nearby pile of shattered stone and twisted steel. "Not mess—resource. Alchemy can reclaim most of it. I've already got modular converters running in Sector Three. We're extracting silica, ferrite, arcane residue—even ether traces from fractured enchantments."
He brushed a finger across a broken column, flakes of dust scattering. "I know the material down to its essence—this world and the one before it. I know how to break it down and build it better."
Garron studied him for a moment, then gave a grunt of approval. "You always did sound like someone living three steps ahead of the rest of us. Guess now it's official."
Liam gave a half shrug. "Not the future I asked for. But it's the one I've got."
AISAR's voice chimed in his thoughts."Updated schematics uploaded. Terrain-adjusted foundations optimized. Projected structural resilience: forty-six percent above prior city standard."
"Good to hear, AISAR," Liam muttered.
Garron's datapad buzzed. He glanced down, then grinned. "Blueprints already synced. You're still a pain in my ass, Liam Passart. Even in your new steel skin."
"That's how you know I haven't changed."
They turned to face the city—ruined towers silhouetted in smoke, fractured roads crawling with machines and firelit silhouettes.
"Time to get back to it," Liam said.
Garron nodded. "We've got a city to raise from the ashes."