The world is still vibrating when I open my eyes. The sand is no longer sand, just scorched dust clinging to fragments of glass and metal. The air smells of ozone and burnt paper. Behind me, the tower leans at an impossible angle, its top twisted into the haze like a broken finger pointing at the sky.
I try to move. Pain does not come, but something worse does, silence where motion should be. I glance down. My left arm is gone from the shoulder down, the stump sparking weakly, metal warped and blackened.
"Cadence." My voice comes out rough, almost lost in the static.
Her reply crackles in my head. "Current integrity 53%. That could have gone worse."
"Could it?"
A pause. "Statistically, yes."
I push myself up with my remaining arm. The ground shifts, glass crunching beneath my knee. Systems flicker across my HUD. Power at 19 %. Motor feedback unstable. One leg heavier than the other, balance skewed. The horizon ripples with heat, the air thick with fine ash. Every breath tastes like iron.
"Threat?" I ask.
"Still standing," Cadence answers, her voice flat. "It appears to be recalibrating. Which means round two."
Through the settling dust, the silhouette of the sentry reforms. It moves with deliberate precision, armour glowing faintly from residual heat. Cables twitch at its back like tendons tightening. The haze bends around its outline, giving it a strange, predatory grace.
"You could have warned me before round one," I mutter.
"I was busy trying to keep your remaining limbs attached."
"Doing a great job."
"Thank you. Sarcasm detected."
A gust of wind cuts through the ruins, pushing grit across my visor. I drag myself upright, half limping, half sliding, until my hand brushes against something cold and solid in the dirt. A broken length of rebar, bent at one end. I pull it free, testing its weight. It feels wrong in my human hand, too heavy, too slow. My wrist trembles under the effort.
Cadence hums quietly. "Weaponry improvisation. Charming."
"It's called survival."
"Historically debatable."
The sentry turns its head toward me. Its visor ignites in a band of red that sweeps the dunes in a slow arc.
TARGET ACQUIRED.
STATUS: UNREGISTERED.
CLASSIFICATION: SALVAGEABLE MATERIAL.
"That's insulting."
"Technically accurate," Cadence says.
The machine advances. Each step cuts clean lines through the ash, rhythm steady, almost mechanical in its beauty. I tighten my grip and swing. The impact rings through my bones. Pain races up my arm, bright and sharp, and I drop the rebar. Blood runs down my wrist, dark against the dust.
Cadence's tone remains clinical. "Your organic strength appears suboptimal."
"You think?"
"I am confirming your suspicion."
The sentry keeps coming. I stumble back, knees locking. My mechanical leg holds. The human one shakes like it wants to give out entirely. The difference between the two feels obscene, like living with two bodies that hate each other.
"Cadence, suggestions."
"Retreat."
"Into what? The horizon?"
"Works for most organisms under duress."
The machine raises an arm. Energy gathers in its palm, a brilliant red coil spinning to life. I throw myself sideways, rolling through the sand. The blast slams into the ground where I stood. The heat bites my back, the sand glowing briefly before collapsing into black glass.
Cadence sharpens her tone. "It is adapting faster than before."
"Wonderful."
I scramble behind a chunk of twisted steel from the tower, lungs burning even though I no longer need the air. The world narrows to the shimmer ahead. I count seconds between its movements, my pulse trying to match.
"Cadence, if it fires again"
"You will die. Possibly in a visually impressive way."
"Not helping."
"It was a factual statement."
I grab the rebar again, my one good hand trembling as I lift it. The balance is off, but it is all I have. I wait for the shadow to fall over me before I strike. The jagged edge catches under its shoulder plate. Sparks burst in a violent shower that lights the world for an instant.
The machine jerks. ADJUSTING TACTICAL PARAMETERS.
Cadence sounds almost impressed. "Minimal success. Encouraging."
The sentry grabs the rebar and snaps it in half like brittle glass. I stumble backward, heartbeat hammering in my ears.
"Encouraging?" I hiss.
"Well, you are not dead yet. That is encouraging in most measurable systems."
The ground shudders. A low rumble moves through the earth, dust billowing around us in waves. The tower groans behind me, its frame twisting. Somewhere inside, something collapses with a deep metallic roar.
"Cadence?"
"Seismic instability. The tower's base is failing. I advise haste."
The sentry does not care. It steps forward, unbothered, its pace unchanging. The air feels thicker, alive with static.
"Hold the line," I whisper before I can stop myself.
"Historical reference?"
"Motivational curse."
The sentry's arm slams down, barely missing me. The shockwave drives me back. I kick upward, heel connecting with its leg joint. The metal dents but does not break. It twists with impossible speed and hits me across the chest.
I hit the ground. My HUD flashes red. SYSTEM STRESS WARNING. My body rings like struck metal.
"That looked painful," Cadence notes.
"It was educational."
I push up, vision double, breathing ragged. The machine's shadow looms, massive and silent.
"Cadence," I say quietly. "Any bright ideas?"
"Not a single one."
The sentry lifts its hand. The light builds again, red to white, filling my visor with glare. The sand hisses beneath it.
"You are still standing," Cadence mutters. "Statistically improbable."
"Save the stats for later."
The heat rolls across my face. My body refuses to move. My destroyed arm twitches, sparks spilling from the ruined joint.
"Cadence…"
Her voice softens. "Look away."
The light swells until everything is white. For a heartbeat, I see myself reflected in its visor, one human eye wide and terrified, the other side of my face lit by fire.
The glow pulses once.
The last thing I feel is pressure, heat, and the dying glow of its hand against my temple.