Rei did not have the strength of an adult female. She was short—still growing!—and her talons could only be sharpened so much before they hurt. Not once had she held a spear in her hands, and personally operating a machine gun was rare, even if she went to the range.

The way the new ones stared at her with dismissive pity only emphasized it. Rei could see their thoughts through every worried glance as she passed them by.

'A juvenile on the frontier? How could a pup so weak and inexperienced be asked to face the horrors of the mainland? Oh, woe! Come and look, everyone! A poor youngling that needs protection and guidance and a guardian! How could those nasty inquisitors and paladins tear her from her family? How was she meant to mature without mother figures to guide her through adolescence? Does no one else worry over her? Must it be me to take the responsibility? Certainly, there must be someone to take care of this fragile whelp!'

She never got tired of seeing their eyes widen when they saw the defenceless juvenile on the bug-killing leaderboard. Over ten thousand beasts, slaughtered by her hand. The new ones would look back several times, disbelief over the 'impossible.'

But it was possible. She had done it. Her hunter had been stained in enough blood to fuel the fortress settlement for a hundred winters.

Rei could not stop herself from grinning whenever she thought about it. Not just the reactions, but how untouchable she was. How her name brandished feats that most adults could never dream of.

She was important… Artificer Tracy said so herself.

The juvenile glanced down the raised catwalk to where the star-sent was. Some part of her hoped that Tracy was watching her perform her tasks successfully. But the leader was not. Instead, she was clearly busy with a program on her laptop, the one with 'code' lines.

Hopefully Rei would learn such skills soon. They seemed useful…

"Rei, could you hand me the injection cord?" Talos requested from beside the younger pilot, snapping her back into the present.

She was on her knees with multicolored wires wrapped in her tail, sorted by color and pin count… and yet she suddenly forgot what they did—the massive backside of the mechanical hip joint in front of her filled in the gaps.

Right, her task was to install the gyroscopic sensors into the half-built 'cyclops.' The machine's bulky legs were right-side up and finally attached to the brick hip joint after two hours of work. However, the main drive, the computing components, the aforementioned sensors, and the entirety of the upper housing had yet to be put in, meaning the unfinished mech was currently held up by scaffolding and cables from a crane above.

Rei quickly glanced at her tail, picking out a 4-pin cable, pulling it further out from the open panel on the hip, and handing it over.

"My appreciations," the other mech pilot offered. She leaned around the leg and thrust the cord into an unseen socket in the pelvis joint, digging around for the proper input.

The light gray-skinned juvenile looked back at her own task, going through the various ports of the exposed 'ass-side' dashboard and referencing the sheet in another hand.

Talos peeked her head up. "The injection cord is plugged in, correct?"

Rei confirmed the other side was embedded into the panel. "Correct."

Yet, the more she looked at how the wire wrapped around the moving joint, the more she pondered how the leg was meant to move without popping the cord. Especially for such important equipment as gyroscopic cables. And, naturally, exterior cables were improper for a fighting machine, given they made for weak points…

She looked down the catwalk again, finding Tracy sitting down with crossed legs and a laptop over them. Rei raised her intent. "Artificer Tracy?"

The star-sent looked up from her work and called back. "What's up?"

"Why are we employing exterior cables for the cyclops? The injection cord between the hull and the joint interferes with the leg's range of motion."

"Yeah, it's not permanent," the Artificer responded casually, waving her hand in a brushing motion. "Just need it so we can set up the sensor-myomer interactions between the joints and pelvic controller before the legs can stand on their own… Another issue with building a cyclops by hand, I guess."

"I see. Will we need to do the same for the central housing and the shoulder joints?" the younger mech pilot asked.

"Basically. The shoulders are a little different with gyros, especially since we haven't figured out what we're putting in for the arms… Just get the jobs I printed out for you done, and then I'll come over, plug in my laptop, and explain what we're doing since I gotta be there too anyways."

"Of course. We will be as fast as jets."

Rei smiled, happy to have Artificer Tracy confident in her abilities to finish the task and a promise of learning more. She glanced down at the other components strewn out along the workshop floor. Each construction of alloy and carbon fibers waited impatiently to be added atop the waist of the great mech. The pieces had her excited to see what the final mechanical body would look like. Of course, she saw the diagram, but in person, it had to be an exceptional sight.

The cyclops would be big—gundam big. Taller than Paladin Shar'khee by over a meter! Who knew how many brownings or short-range missiles could be fit onto a hull like that, especially with its wide feet… Maybe a full autocannon could be placed on it? She really wanted to pilot it, knowing it would feel just like moving a heavy mech around in 'MechBattler 11.'

But no, it was Max's—the artificial intelligence. Rei stifled the million complaints and questions she had about the entire situation. If it was what the star-sents wanted, it must be good for the Sharkrin. Though, it made her wonder how having a mech body would feel. Cold? Stiff? It was much more limited than a Malkrin body…

She continued to swap out and readjust the pins and inputs of wires inside the hip panel, transferring them to Talos when necessary while pondering whether metal skin would itch or not. What if Max wasn't given arms that could reach an itch? That would be cringe.

Her eyes frequently glanced back down to the cyclops components beneath her. She liked to imagine them as parts from Mechbattler. The torso reminded her of the brick-like structure of a Hunchback and Crab medium mech, with no head up top—which was where Max's core was meant to be placed. Its back sponson would hang far over the hips, tapering up like a wedge to balance the rest of its bulky frontal armor and arms meant to lean forward. The entire complex was riddled with lifting lugs and climbing bars, reminiscent of industrial machinery.

Tracy described it as a 'workhorse' for the Martian military. It was durable and modular, intended for multiple roles from repairing objectives to transporting heavy machinery to mass-deployment assaults. The vision suite, two Malkrin-sized robotic arms, and a large winch on the front pelvis region emphasized it. Rei tried not to chitter at the final form—there was no way the star-sent did not design it like lower fins!

Never mind the funny-shaped arms and rotating camera. The legs were thick and bulky, reminiscent of massive pillars, bent around the knees. Its feet were made like those of a mountain—broad and powerful. Maybe pillars were not an apt description; they were the towers of a castle.

…Built like a castle. She looked over to the second 'head' on the floor, the one intended to be placed between the two main halves of the frontal armor. While its 'face' was not made of smooth obsidian, the black sensors and optics within created an illusion of the same.

A body of imposing bulk with sharp angles and cubes, 'a living castle on two legs,' made completely of alloy and electricity… and brandishing explosions strong enough to reduce kingdoms to dust… Deity-sent in origin.

The Slayer of Leviathan.

Rei had stopped working altogether, staring down at the unassembled parts of the machine. She thought back to when she first arrived on the mainland: the blurry confusion, being stuffed behind the villagers, her shaking hands, eyes glancing at every new object, and the anxiousness in the face of everything she did not understand. What would she have thought if she had seen a cyclops then? How terrifying would such a monstrous mech be on the other side of a guardswoman's spear?

Were… Were the deity-sent mechs? …No, mechs could not speak. Nor could they move on their own.

The only machines that could operate on their own were programmed by Artificer Tracy and… Max…

A shiver of awe trailed up her spine and through her frills. Max moved the hunter. Max would move the cyclops.

The connections bounced through her mind, lighting up with the machines and video game mechs that she had seen. She knew the true power of the mechanisms she was currently building. Her tail started to sway uncontrollably, pulling on the wires they held.

She felt her ears flatten in the vibrating excitement that coursed through her blood. It was almost too good to be true, but…

Rei was helping to build a DEITY-SENT!

Artificer Tracy, the mech pilot's leading force, had taught her much of alloys and electronics in the same way the Lord of Labor led Malkrin to the Mountain, and now… Now the juvenile had a hand in constructing something far, far greater than herself.

And it… It was so fucking COOL!

= = = = =

The seasons came fast on Ershah; it was definitely getting colder outside. Near freezing, by the way Harrison's breath created the tiniest bit of smoke with every exhale. Only a Tracy-scented fur coat, some thick cargo pants, and the thought of the two women he loved kept him warm…

God, he wished his human furnace and shark pillow were here. Why did they have to be busy the moment he was willing to skip his responsibilities to be with them?

…He wasn't actually, but he'd be lying if he didn't admit that he wanted to see Shar if not for anything other than that extra beat in his heart when she was near. The world just felt more colorful around her. Her reassuring presence felt like home, and he knew that the breeze wouldn't be so harsh with her at his side.

But it was to the cold, with him. He watched the ongoing construction on the beach from up the hill toward the settlement. The last major post-blood-moon buildings—the pier, port, and dry-dock—were finally underway, and arguably the most important one going forward. Oliver and Sebas had already gone through the soil and erosion simulations of the port, giving a green light for the current pre-fab site. Builder bots went about digging holes into the sturdy rock a few meters beneath the orange sands. Foundational materials were set aside for use in the next step and protected from the elements with a tarp.

The big ant-like drones were capable of working underwater, able to install the eighteen-meter steel piles into the ground far enough to meet up with the concrete bricks used as a sea-wall. Though the actual pier itself came at the end of the project, just as the marine fabricator did.

One project at a time.

Harrison locked eyes with Oliver, who stood off to the side of the work site, and nodded, to which the little genius bobbed his head in return. The craftsman had a lot of experience in civil engineering under his belt, made possible with Sebas by his side and enough translated textbooks on his data pad to bore even a physics major to death.

Footfalls grew nearer from the grass behind him. They were evenly spaced and purposefully light, the rattle of a forty-millimeter grenade belt cluing him into who approached.

"The start of a new way forward," Akula commented confidently, stepping up beside him. The second pair of stomping boots must've been Rio, her ex-servant.

He took a deep breath of the salty air, chilling his lungs. "Something like that, yeah."

The hot breath leaving his mouth caught the sea-based Malkrin's attention, but her curiosity didn't distract her from her purpose. "What do you wish to know of today?"

Right. A quick check of the surroundings confirmed no one to be around, save for the two living bushes he called guards… assumedly. Their exact location was a mystery. Harrison crossed his arms, looking over the distant waves rising and falling under the overcast sky. "You mentioned melders as a job. What role do they play?"

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"They are the same as your construction drones; they create the buildings in which we inhabit."

He watched a robotic ant methodically climb out of a recently-dug foundation hole in the sand and dump its internal contents onto a pile of wet rocks. "Why 'melders?' You mentioned coral halls. I'm guessing they use coral in the construction?"

"They 'meld' the coral. It is a long process of influencing the coral to grow and shape through careful application of intent and offered means to grow," Akula answered, bringing her hands behind her back.

Harrison raised a brow, glancing at her. "You grow coral with your intent?"

The overseer raised her snout. "It is not so simple as 'growing' the coral with one's intent. Melding requires a far closer bond between the melder and their progeny. It requires nurturing and weeks worth of interactions to coerce the coral to trust one, even more so for feeding and inducing a state of continual sprouting."

"A bond?" he questioned dubiously.

Akula nodded, the smallest smile on her muzzle betraying her rigid explanation. "Indeed, a bond. Coral, much like any other living being of the Cycle has its own desires— nutrients, safety, or otherwise. It is natural. In no part its lifecycle does our coral wish to become homes, churches, or palaces. Coral desires sunlight, sustenance, and a structure in which to grow upon. Providing them with such whilst imprinting your presence with your intent will help to bridge their trust to your whims."

The engineer fully turned toward her, genuine curiosity in his tone. "How do you 'imprint your presence' to coral? Forgive me if I'm wrong about Ershan coral, but aren't they essentially little animals that create colored rocks with algae they use for energy? I'm guessing what you're saying is that intent can work on any animal, or…?"

"For your observation on coral, that is correct. It is made up of both plant and animal. Though, ignorant Mountain worshipers will tell you it is simply a colorful sea-bound rock," the overseer haughtily remarked before returning to her deferential manner.

"You are also correct that intent has influence over such animals, for imprinting one's presence is… It is…" She paused while looking at him, the tips of her ears going limp. "I… I suppose you would not understand how it feels. Never have I had to describe intent… It is to my understanding that you are aware of what vital intent is, yes?"

He nodded. "A kind of natural intent anything living gives off, yeah."

"Such natural vigor is applicable to Malkrin. Although faint and often ignored, most individuals have a certain exposure of their intent. Some say it is what is in their heart, others say it is their natural character. Vital intent is the way one feels, so to speak… I imagine Shar'khee has become accustomed quite well to your laborious yet compassionate demeanor—I certainly have."

Akula gestured to the black abyss of an ocean. "An example I think of goes as follows. In open water, one might feel unsafe, a shiver would run down their frills and spine for no applicable reason. It is a small feeling that your mind will struggle to put away. Moments later, you are eye to eye with an overpowering predator… You could not see it, but its hungry vital intent had washed through you, making you alert."

"So like a sixth sense," he commented, a small, fascinated smile growing over his lips. His mind immediately drew parallels to the colony document on the psychosphere. He liked that these things were coming together, even more so that he had a foundation to understand the unnatural.

"If that is your word for such a phenomenon," she agreed, glancing down at him with a pleased expression. "Only the best warriors master the ability to detect and hide intent, for it is a difficult skill to improve. Now, for the applications of melding, you can imagine that presenting yourself as a benevolent force to coral, 'bonding' with it, will allow a certain influence with your communicative and vital intent.

"Coral, as I said before, relies on the sun, sustenance, and a foundation to build its structure upon. The core part of creating a bond is the second component. Most melders believe it is imperative to 'talk' to the coral as you deliver minced fish or strips of kelpweed, preferably in a generous or kind tone. Some compliment their coral 'progeny' while others find comfort in recounting their thoughts and stories… The melders have a sort of connection to that which they grow, for certain. I recall a younger version of me feeling pity for one House Neptunus melder, Visrah, who appeared quite lonely, talking to her buildings for most of her days."

She paused and looked off into the ocean. A small frown curled her lips before she shook her head, continuing with a building fascination. "I digress, the intention is that your projection and feeding ties into your presence. Now, I have not experienced the labor of a melder, but I am told that one can feel the 'acceptance' of once's presence amongst the coral when they come close. The thousands of creatures' vital intent displays a subtle excitement, growing as one gets close. And so, a true bond occurs when the melder has an entire colony in such a state."

He could kind of imagine how it would feel to have a bunch of tiny little creatures greeting him in his head.

"This intent-based relationship, although barely detectable to any other laborer of a House, allows these melders to project where they wish the coral to grow. They define the lengths, direction, and greater texture of their progeny through days and days of communication. Their skill and ingenuity of an elder melder cannot be overstated. In fact, my mother's palace had been grown so gorgeously with the addition of land metals reflecting sunlight within. Oh! I so wish I had the technology of your cameras to show you the great palaces and churches formed from the sea itself… I suppose you will see them in time."

Harrison nodded, suppressing a smirk as he mostly followed her excited monologue—something he rarely saw from the uptight woman.

She tilted her head in thought, a reflection of the sea in her glowing irises. "I am sure you are thinking about how this could possibly work in the Cycle's benefit."

He wasn't.

She continued anyway. "These constructions are not sinks for the Cycle's resources. They give back to the ocean. A smart melder designs their walls with niches or nest locations, allowing currents to pass through open apertures, and ensuring they do not encourage algae overgrowth. The best of such craftswomen are those mated with gardeners, whose perfection is entwined in a zenith of living"

Akula's pride had done more than spiked, turning her lecture into an inspired monologue in a way he'd never seen her. "Of course, this all stems back to their bond, which goes so far as to spread between colonies of coral and through the family lines of the melders themselves. The laborers ease their pups and juveniles into the trade. These adolescents will age with tall and robust frills from years of young experience. Gardeners and their offspring also form similar bonds with their progeny, but the flora does not grow to such colonies as coral, limiting the influence and connection. Though the influence they have in growing hearty leaves and fruit sacs is certainly noted.

"In fact, I myself have…" Her eyes met with his incredulous smirk, ears immediately wilting in embarrassment for a split second before she straightened her back to maintain her authoritative aura. "I… Forgive me. I have spoken for far too long. I did not mean to… Have you any questions?"

Harrison chuckled. "No need to apologize, I actually thought it was cute— COUGH. I… I thought that it was interesting… that you're so invested in melding. It'll be useful. Really."

A dark blue took over her snout as she nodded. Her voice snapped back into emotionless professionalism. "I agree… I will ask once more, did you have any questions?"

He stared back at the sandy construction site, thinking out loud. "Yeah. I figure growing coral isn't a super fast process, right? Unless Ershan coral is different or the intent affects them. How long does a regular House take?"

"It depends on the melders." She turned to him fully, holding a palm out in explanation. "If they can offer the nutrients and grow with patterns of sunshine, they may will the coral to construct sleeping arrangements for a lineage in a few hundred days."

"Well, how big is a 'lineage' home?"

Akula held her hands out, mimicking the rectangular size of a building. "Similar to our dormitories. Perhaps smaller, without the personal rooms that you allow our Sharkrin laborers. They are rounded like our hydroponics dome as well, if that helps your vision of them."

He scratched the recently-shaved stubble around his chin. "Sorta… I guess what I'm trying to get at is the logistics. How many melders are there? As in, per group, or 'House.'"

"The amount depends upon the House. Some, like House Ocianus, are known for their melders, sending their tradeswomen out to other Cycle worshipers to work for access to specialized craftswomen or material. There are at least ten melders for each House, Oceanus has upwards of forty at any given winter."

Ten… per House? A subtle worry played into his curiosity. "And how big are the Houses? How many Houses, even?"

"Around two hundred females and a hundred males for each house, some are smaller, others larger, in which there are twenty-five total," Akula answered quickly, a scowl forming over her expression. "…Twenty-four. Only the Goddess of the Cycle knows how such figures have changed in five winters."

His stomach sank. The mental math added up to around seven thousand five hundred, which… wasn't a lot of Malkrin. It was a lot more than he led, but a far cry from the hearty kingdoms he assumed they were. The amount, especially for one of only two known civilizations, was tiny. Scarce enough to make the Malkrin damn near endangered unless the land kingdom had at least ten times the population.

God, he hoped that was the case, or that there were at least more of them somewhere else. Otherwise, it put a pretty grave expectation on him if he was going to keep taking them in. He was responsible for leading them; the lives of an already strained population were in his hands.

A flicker of a thought had him consider boating the Malkrin back and starting anew on the islands, where it was safer. But, given how they were whipped, starved, and forced here, the plan didn't sound so promising… Maybe he could use force to make them live there?

No. That was even worse.

The train of thought disgusted him, clenching his eyes shut in shame. Everything about the situation felt wrong. Thinking like that wasn't going to help anyone. He had a loyal following now. This was their home. They carved their future into this shore, picking at the stones themselves to form a sanctuary against the nightmares.

Any pride he felt was reflected tenfold in the eyes of the Malkrin by his side. If anything, he should find strength in how he operated. A leader ensuring that his people were alive, fed, and happy at the end of the day wasn't the same across Ershah. He heard the stories from Kegara's camp—the deaths, the disregard for life…

What Harrison had was an opportunity to repay their loyalty with his own. If Akula wanted that loyalty to spread to her kingdom, he should be blessed to have that responsibility in seeing her kind flourish.

It would only get harder. Balancing a society, religion, manufacturing, and a future isn't a simple thing. And so what? How many times had he struggled since he fell from the sky? How many times did he have the very same people there to pick him back up?

The Sharkrin were built on that pressure and grew from their solidarity.

"Creator?" Akula inserted her voice into his head, refocusing his eyes on the builder bot in his vision.

"Yeah, that's… That's not a lot of people," he grumbled.

"Whatever do you mean? Our ranks are in the thousands, kept stable and hearty from the time of our eldest grandmothers."

"Compared to…" Harrison stopped himself. He wanted to reference the billions of humans back in Sol and how populations of millions could collapse over almost nothing, but given the human population was a grand total of two on Ershah, his comparisons felt hollow. "It's nothing… I think I've learned enough for now. Need to be back in the workshop."

She bowed her head. "Of course."

Yet, when her eyes locked with his again, she was still, expecting something.

He drew in a long breath, speaking flatly. "I'm still thinking about it. I can't make a decision until after the blood-moon and until you tell me more."

Akula nodded again. "I shall find you again, then."

Harrison turned around, giving the overseer a final regard before walking up the hill toward the fortress. The engineer clicked his tongue twice, waiting a second for Vodny and Cera to reappear from their invisible places in the grass. Two living masses of red brush rose up and collapsed in line behind him without a word.

A few trains of thought made their rounds over his mind, blurring out the walk back to the workshop with images of domed underwater homes. He imagined how many there were out there.

If he did end up going to the sea kingdom… how many would come back with him?

= = = = =

Guns. Explosions. Blood. Fire. Camaraderie.

The guardswoman was lost in the video of her sisters' helmet camera, endlessly fascinated in the methodical culling of an entire hive. She stood in front of the 'computer' with her warrior town-mates, now a part of the 'strike team.' The flashing tracers and gore had them held still, waiting with bated breaths for the next surprise attack from the 'bug' holes.

Monsters would appear with gnashing teeth and globs of acid, only to be beaten back down by a wall of shields and bullets. Fire charred through the disgusting influence the hive had over the rock, popping sacs and choking anything left breathing.

The flickering flames that outlined the Sharkrin force were as spectacular as they were brutal. Mountain Lord, she could not wait until she felt the warmth of burning enemies like them.

"Ah, this is when the colossi column shows up. Watch how swiftly they fall apart!" Javelin cheered, leaning over to point at the side of the screen.

One of the massive, heavily-shelled beasts thrust its tusks through the dismembered corpses of the abhorrent. It bellowed into the cave, rattling shells and Malkrin alike, only to recoil back and fall limp. A high-explosive, anti-tank shell blasted through its body, spilling organs outside the back. Another colossi charged forward, wedging itself in between its dead comrade and the wall, but met the exact same fate.

The spear captain chittered. "They fall apart like an armored convoy in a perfect ambush. Notice how they are unable to pursue us after the first one falls… Such mindless beasts."

"Armored convoy?" A militiawoman from the island town questioned from the side of the viewing parting.

"Tanks or armored personnel carriers driving in a column," Javelin answered casually, as if one were to know what 'armored personnel carriers' were…

"What are armored personnel carriers?" the guardswoman added to the question.

"…Armored vehicles meant to carry individuals' safety to and from a battle's frontline." The young, yellow-skinned warrior held a talon to the end of her snout. "I suppose it makes sense you do not know what those are; you have yet to be taught the ways of the gustav."

"The recoilless rifle?"

Javelin smirked, oozing pride in her words. "Yes, since I was the very first to be entrusted with such a fantastical weapon, given that the Creator knew I would perform the best, he showed me videos of its use. Square trucks and metal-lined tanks were shown as the natural prey of the gustav. Each fell upon a singular strike of high-explosive dual-purpose or high-explosive anti-tank munition."

The guardswoman was still quite unsure of the words her captain used, tilting her head. "These 'tanks' are not the colossi, correct?"

"No, they are star-sent inventions," the yellow-skinned spear deadpanned.

"Then, he uses his own weapons on his own inventions?"

Javelin slowly nodded, pausing the video and crossing all four arms over her chest. "I see… I believe I understand where your confusion stems from. These weapons, our weapons, were once used in grand star-sent wars for hundreds of winters. You must know our Creator comes from a place of great battles and foreign cultures. In fact, I have spent much time studying some specific cultures from his home, 'Mars,' so perhaps you would also do well to partake in watching such videos."

The banished militiawoman held her hand out, gathering attention to herself. "I am still quite confused on what a tank is. Our gustavs are quite powerful, so for something to merit one… May I see the videos the Creator showed you?"

"I may be able to find it in the drive Tracy gave me. Though she recently deleted a few folders from it, however, and not everything has been translated and subtitled. I will check later, and if not, we can ask the Creator directly for such films."

"Directly?" the guardswoman asked, astonished.

"Why not? He does not mind, and I am sure he would love for us to study star-sent wars further, what with the song of the blood-moon a fantastic parallel to our own battles. Here, give me your schedules. Let me see when a viewing gathering is possible.

"I know of a few others who would love to see such star-sent videos."

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